Aunt Cecilia.
My blood turned to ice. My breath hitched as I stared at the name, my fingers trembling as I fumbled to answer the call. She couldn't be calling me. She was… dead. She had died because of me.
"I…I thought you were dead," I whispered, barely able to get the words out.
A chorus of shushing erupted around me as people in the library turned to glare. I didn't care. The phone nearly slipped from my grip as tears welled up in my eyes. My aunt's voice on the other end, strong and clear, made everything inside me collapse.
"What? Dead? Where?" Aunt Cecilia asked, her tone full of confusion. She sounded alive. She wasn't dead. But she should have been.
I became a sobbing mess, as the memory crashing down on me. I didn't care who was watching, who was whispering for me to quiet down. I was drowning in the guilt of it all.
