Fierce(73)

Squatting, I check each of the stalls until I find her feet, and then lean up against the door. She doesn’t say anything. She’s completely quiet, and it makes me scared.

“Evie? Open the door,” I say.

It’s silent for a few seconds, but then I hear her fiddle the door and I scramble back when she opens it. Tears are rolling down her cheeks. Toilet paper is crushed between her fingers, and her face is red all over. She looks miserable.

“What’s wrong?” I say, coming closer.

She blows her nose and throws the paper in the toilet. Something really, really bad has happened.

She almost never cries.

“C’mon, you can tell me,” I say softly.

Trembling, she lifts her head, her eyes watery and horrified. It looks like she’s seen a ghost. Or something worse.

I’m not even sure I still want to know.

But I have to be there for her. She looks terrible, and I know there’s something wrong. I have to brace myself for it.

I put my hands on her knees and caress the caps, trying to soothe her.

“I-It’s S-Scarlet …” she says, catching her breath. She’s having trouble breathing because of all the crying.

“S-she’s …. Oh God.” Her voice sounds croaky.

“What?” I say, grabbing her hands.

“I have to puke.”

She turns around, pulls the seat up and throws up right away. I turn to grab a few pieces of toilet paper so she can wipe her face. She sighs, barely able to keep breathing. I seriously start to wonder what happened.

“Please tell me what’s wrong, I’m worried about you,” I say, patting her back to calm her down.

“S-Scarlet. H-her room. D-dead.”

My heart stops. My breath is caught in my throat. All light disappears in front of my eyes. I can’t speak.

I just stammer. “W-what? What are you saying? Dead?”

Her eyes scream out in agony as she sinks to the floor, bawling her eyes out above the toilet she just puked in.

“G-go look,” she stutters.

I turn my head toward the door. Hunter’s standing there in his sweatpants. His eyes are big and his face is darkened. He heard it too.

I swallow back the bile rising up in my throat. It can’t be true.

No …

I run for the door, Hunter going in front of me. We both rush to Scarlet’s room. As we step inside, my blood turns frigid.

Scarlet’s lying in her bed. Her arms hang down over the bed. On the floor is a syringe. Empty. Below her face is a puddle of vomit mixed with foam still partially inside her mouth. Her eyes are dark, hollow. Life has left her long ago.

The true horror of what happened sinks in, and I collapse underneath my own weight. Sinking down to the floor, I hold onto the doorframe to feel grounded. It feels as though the world has been taken away from under my feet, and I’m falling into an endless pit.

“No …” Hunter mutters, walking closer.

He turns her body gently, inspecting her eyes, her face, her limbs. He’s careful, but I still can’t believe he actually has the courage to touch her.

Her. The body. The corpse.

She’s no longer Scarlet.

It’s just an empty shell. A nothingness.

I swallow away the rising bile, and try not to think about it, but seeing her body there, lifeless, is almost too much. It’s shocking. I can’t believe this is really happening. She’s dead.

And oh God, Evie found her.

I crawl back up.

“Where are you going?” Hunter asks me, raising his eyebrow like he’s still too busy with the examination.

“I need to be there for Evie,” I say, and I rush out the door, not realizing she’s already halfway across the hall. “What are you doing?” I say, confused, as I see her hold the wall as support while walking forward.

She doesn’t answer, but falls into my arms instead. Crying, she breaks apart. I shush her and caress her back. “It’s going to be okay.”

“No,” she whimpers.

She holds on so tight I can barely breathe. That, and I really feel like I need to throw up, too.

“Yes, it will. You have to keep it together.”

“She’s dead!” she screams. “I found her, dammit. I wasn’t sleeping here last night … I only came back this morning. I didn’t even know she was d …” Her breath gets caught in her throat. I pat her back to make her feel better, but of course I already know it won’t do any good.

I guess I’ll just ignore the fact that she just spilled that she slept at some other place last night. This is not the time and place to be asking about her relationships.

“I’m sorry …” I say, trying to concentrate on her sadness.

I don’t know what else to tell her. There’s nothing I can say that will make this all right. Scarlet’s dead. She’s never coming back.