closed, and his lips parted. “Grave, wake up!” I shout, tears burning my eyes.
Jasmine falls down next to me and pulls her cell out of her pocket.
I cry as I touch his neck with shaky hands. His skin is clammy and pale. Please don’t be dead. “What did you do, baby? What did you take?”
I wanted to wake him up. Scream at him. Pound on his chest and ask what the hell do you think you’re doing? Why do you waste your life? But I didn’t. I learned a very important lesson last night.
They don’t call him Grave for nothing.
“Are you even sorry?” I ask, breaking the awkward silence.
His eyes come back to mine, but he doesn’t answer.
I nod, getting my answer. I reach down and grab my phone off the floor and turn to walk toward the door. I’m pulled to a stop with a hand on my upper arm. I almost cry out from his touch alone. I put my head down, staring at the floor as tears begin to burn my eyes.
He gently turns me around and lifts my chin for me to look at him. My eyes shoot to the left, staring at a speck on the wall, not wanting to make eye contact.
“Did I hurt you?” he questions roughly.
Just my pride. “No,” I growl, mad at myself. That first tear runs down my cheek, and I bite my bottom lip in shame that I let him affect me this much. That I actually care that he stood me up to get high and fuck his fuck buddy. The one that he blatantly lied about not fucking anymore.
He lets go of my arm, cups my face with one hand, and wipes it away with his thumb.
My eyes finally meet his, and he stares down at me, giving nothing away. He’s hiding behind a wall a mile high. I look down and see a bottle of pills in his other hand. The same ones I found on him last night when I tried to shake him awake. When I screamed his name in the middle of the room, and no one helped me. No one seemed to care he wasn’t responding except for Jasmine. She was just as frantic as I was.
“Why do you do it?” I ask, my voice shaking. I feel like I was blinded to who he really is. To what he wants. It was all a lie, and I believed it. Last night opened my eyes. It’s not hard to figure out this is his lifestyle. Last night wasn’t just a one-time night with friends. How many times have I been with him, and he was high that I didn’t know about? Is he just that good at hiding it? Or am I just that blind?
He shatters my heart with three words. “To feel alive.”
There was no confusion. He knew exactly what I meant. And that scares me more than his answer. Anger takes over my heartache. What he’s done. To me. To himself. I slap him across the face. The sound bouncing off the walls in the quiet room.
His head snaps to the side. “April …”
I slap him again. Harder. His eyes close tightly. “Did you feel that?”
He straightens, running a hand down his face while his breathing picks up. His bare chest rising and falling fast.
My hand stings, and his face now shows two handprints of mine. I slap him again.
“Stop!” he shouts, gripping my wrists and slamming my back into the door, making it rattle. His drug-hazed eyes glare down at mine. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
“I don’t.” The words get caught in my throat, and my bottom lip begins to tremble, trying to keep it together. “I kneeled on a floor last night, Grave. And I begged you to open your eyes. I cried for you not to be dead.” I choke out. “Do you know what that feels like?” I yank my wrists free of his hold. He’s weak. His body tired. Drugs will do that to you. Drain you of everything you have. I shove at his chest.
He takes a step back from me. “I don’t remember anything from last night.”
That makes me even more pissed. “You forgot we had a date? That you stood me up?”
“No,” he barks. “I remember the date. I just don’t remember how I ended up with Lucy.”
There she is again. She just stood there like a deer in headlights.
“Lucy, what did he take?” Jasmine demands, still kneeling next to me.