keys dangling from one hand, her phone clenched in the other. Her eyes widen when she realizes who I am, shoes clicking against the pavement when she takes a wide step back.
I grin. “Fiona.”
I don’t even bother going home.
The first thing I do is gather up my phone and kit, and cross the driveway to her house. It’s raining like a fucking monsoon all of a sudden, little rivers of runoff sluicing down the drive. Emory’s truck isn’t here and the downstairs windows are all dark. It’s not easy pulling myself up onto the roof. There isn’t a gutter here, and the water running off the roof slides right down my neck. My muscles are sore and already exhausted from my scrap with Em, and that doesn’t help matters, either. The knowledge that he looked even worse than me is a meager consolation.
When I finally manage to heave myself up onto the overhang, soaked to the bone and slumped in fatigue, I sneak to her window. The curtains are closed, but that’s no surprise. I grab the bottom of the window and tug, but it doesn’t give. Locked. Also not a surprise.
I mutter a low curse and pull out my kit, having anticipated this. Windows suck. I have a crude jimmy stuffed into my roll, so I pull it out and get to work. It takes even longer than the door to the tech room had. The only light I have to work with is the occasional flash of lightning behind the clouds. By the fifth time my swollen knuckles bang against the frame, I’m beginning to think it’d be a less hassle to just get in through a door. I’m soaked through and it’s not exactly warm out here, as it is.
I’m just about to give up altogether when the lock finally gives. “Fucking finally.”
The window opens without resistance.
I carefully step through the curtains, but it doesn’t matter. I’m soaking her floor, either way I shake it. The light inside is dim and soft, and when the window shuts behind me, it’s quiet. Warm. A stark contrast to what’s happening outside.
Vandy’s on the bed, curled on her side.
I take a moment to gather my thoughts, because I have this whole, like, plan. If I play this right, I can exonerate myself to Vandy and get Emory’s blessing, all in one fell swoop.
“V?” I softly call, not wanting to scare her. The last thing I need is for her to scream. She doesn’t move, so I kick off my shoes, shuck off my jacket, and shuffle closer. When I’m standing over the bed, I touch her shoulder and shake gently. “Vandy, hey.”
Her eyes are closed, mouth parted as she breathes evenly. She’s flaccid when I shake her, like she’s out hard, which isn’t like her at all. Nights of sleeping at her side have taught me that Vandy is a light sleeper, always on alert. I reach out to brush her cheek, warm and pale beneath my palm.
A curled tendril of her hair draws my eyes to the side.
And then I see it.
There’s a pile of pills. A shit-ton of them. They’re haphazardly gathered into a heap on top of her sheets, right next to where her loose fist rests.
“No.” Everything constricts and narrows before exploding into a panicked frenzy. “No, no, no.” I don’t even care about being heard. I take her face in my hands, yelling. “Vandy! Wake up!”
She doesn’t respond.
I try shaking her again, growling out, “V! Come on, baby, come on!” Nothing.
Without thinking, I shove my arms beneath her and wrench her limp body up into my arms. The journey from the bed to the bathroom is completely lost to me in a blur of velocity and my own flooded lungs. Her arm swings floppily when I push through the door, rushing to the bathtub.
I lay her in the tub, but when I go to turn on the water, my bruised fists are shaking so hard that I can barely keep a grip. Cold water bursts from the shower head in a hissing stutter, and I fight to pull my phone from my sopping pocket. But for some reason, the phone won’t turn on. I keep swiping and pressing, but the screen remains black.
Swipe, press. Black.
Press, swipe. Black.
Over and over again, nothing. I’m struck with the impossible notion that I’ve forgotten how to even work a phone. How long has it been since she left with Sebastian? Two, three hours? Long enough to make a stomach-pumping