"What's right is what's left when you do everything else wrong."

- Robin Williams

8:13 p.m

4 days earlier

The street that housed the Barber's home was strangely quiet compared to the rest of the city. The lights of each house from the end of the road to where Tim stood remained dark, as if abandoned. Even the street lamps were off. But shadows darting from windows to windows had him questioning whether or not he was truly alone under the sky that night. The Barber house, like all the others, was drenched in darkness, save for a single room on the second floor which window glowed softly in the night. Stella's room.

“Stella!” Tim called out from the lawn. “I know you're home! Answer me!”

He waited for a reply, but the only sound that called back was the barking of the neighbour's dog and the screeching of tires in the distance, wailing like a banshee. The dog went quiet. Tim walked up to the house and knocked on the door.

Trying the door, he found it locked. “Mister Missus Barber! It's me! Tim! Open up!” he pressed the electronic doorbell, the tune of Que Sera Sera rang through the house. “It's Stella, I think she's in trouble! Please! Let me in!” the silence continued to answer. “Shit. Shit! Where's everyone?” he cursed to himself.

Desperate, he banged on the door to which only the echoes of his effort replied. Sighing in resignation, he stepped back out onto the lawn to distance himself and survey his options.

The garage door remained closed and likely empty. Whatever happened in the past six hours, the Barbers, at least the parents, were no longer home. He contemplated circling round to the patio behind, but the fenced up stretch of road would require him to circle the entire district to reach it. The second floor window was too high up for him to climb as well. He studied the garage door again. It was one of the older models, a manually operated plate that blocked off the entire entrance. Not a possible access.

He knew the Barbers had kept a spare key outside the house, but never found out exactly where it was hidden. Scanning the landscape, there was nothing visible to hide under. No flower pots, nor a welcome mat. Aside from the bricks that made up the structure, there was nothing else exposed.

Then it hit him. “Doorbell,” he smacked his forehead to make it literal.

Jogging back to the front porch, he carefully removed the outer casing of the device. He missed sight of it in the dark and the key dropped clanging to his feet. He picked it up, realizing it was a ring of two keys instead of the single one he had expected. Frustration crept up to him the moment he tested both keys and the front door remained locked. He had half a mind to start kicking the wooden board down, but knew, both from knowledge and experiences from the past week, that nothing in the movie is like it seems.

Spinning the ring of keys on his finger, he asked himself, “Why two keys?” he paced himself back onto the lawn, surprised by his ability to keep his cool despite figuring out that Stella intended to sacrifice herself for Sister. “Two keys. Two different keys. Means two doors. Two doors means...” he headed for the garage.

As expected, there was a small catch that hid a keyhole in the middle of the door. Opening it, he tried the keys, the second one working as the safety latch of the garage door clacked away, the door sliding up and into its spot in the ceiling with loud rumbles that he was sure the space station could hear. As expected, the garage was empty. He headed into the darker room, making sure to close the garage door behind him. The entrance to the living room was locked as well, but the second key opened it and he stepped into the empty house.

Tim called out, “Hello?” just to make sure he was indeed by himself. As expected, there was no reply. He headed for the stairs.

“Tim?” the familiar female voice called out from the second floor.

It was, however, not the one that he had hoped, or expected to hear. “Sister?” he asked back.

In a frenzy, he dashed up the stairs, turned the full 180 at the first landing, and bolted the last flight three steps at a time.

The second floor remained dark, save for the faint light beaming out from the gap of Stella's corner room. Rushing over, he flung the door wide open with enough force that it slammed into the wall behind it.

It was a relatively large room, with a long, white painted desk facing the window. On the table, the mess of the photo album and cleaning supplies laid out across it. The sole light in the room was from the reading light left on. In front of him, in the darkness, stood the girl in the white dress. Both her hands clutching her chest, scrunching up the neck of her dress in her palms.

Through tear filled eyes, she said to him, “I'm sorry Tim. She asked me to do it. And it was too late. I had to.”

He reached for the light switch, “What are you-” he flipped the switch and the room immediately burst with white light. The phantom girl disappeared from his sight as if he had blinked her away.

Behind her, laying on the bed in the same clothes she wore in the afternoon, her cast leg dangling from the side of the bed, Stella laid unmoving.

“No...” he let out softly, fear and dread spreading over him, a man drowning on dry land. “No. No. No! NO!” he rushed to her bedside, furiously shaking the unmoving body. “Wake up Stella! WAKE UP! You can't do this to me! You can't do this too!” hot tears streamed down his face as he frantically scanned the room.

On the night stand was a bottle of sleep medication. Emptied and uncapped. Suddenly, Stella looked as fragile as Clay in his final confrontation with The Brother. The siblings, pillars of support for Tim all his life now needed him the most, and he had no idea what to do. He had a promise to keep to the brother, and the life of the sister to save.

Hopelessly, he started CPR on her. Pushing frantically into her chest with huffs, and kissing breaths of life in desperate attempts at revival.

“Come on! Come on!” he stopped, moved and wrapped his arms under her shoulders and hurriedly carried her up. Wrapping his arms around her stomach, he squeezed her as hard as he could. “Come on! Just puke it out!”

He cried as he did so, the act of carrying her body while crying knocked the wind out of him, growing increasingly tired as the seconds ticked past. He spent five full minutes, desperately trying to revive her, until his legs could no longer support their weight as he slowly lowered her to the ground, dropping to his knees dejectedly with her, sobbing uncontrollably as he did so, his tears soaking everything from his shirt to her back.

“S-Stella! Stella!” he cried while hugging her tightly. He felt something within him break, a pressure welled up in his chest as his heart got torn asunder. “Ah...ah...argh...AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!”

He found himself running, bolting out through the front door of the house and out on the streets. Blacking out, he sprinted through a deserted forest and off a cliff. Regaining consciousness, he was still running, halfway down the streets and away from the Barbers' and from Stella. Half crying, half panting, he passed out again, waking in the vast ocean as he frantically tried to keep himself afloat, with his cognition breaking apart at the seams. Liquid started to fill his lungs as he kicked his legs desperately, only to find himself lying face first in the middle of a road, choking on air as if water had filled his lungs. Crawling to his feet, stumbling forward, blacked out. Stumbling around a floating platform in the sky. Fell off. Woke up.

Limbed over and hugging a street lamp. Pain welled up in his head as he felt the overwhelming rush of sadness engulfed him, his mind feeling as if it was trying to claw itself out of his skull. He pulled his head back and without hesitation, slammed it into the lamp post.