Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Everything is muffled, but I recognize Adrian’s voice relaying the address to the police. The party below us still goes on, completely oblivious to what’s taking place above their heads. Carefully, I try to move Briar onto her side. I think I remember reading that you’re supposed to do that somewhere, and I can’t sit here and do nothing.
“Get the fuck away from her,” Dash says, breaking out of his shock. “You’ve done enough!” He steps forward and kneels next to her. His shaky hands reach out to touch her, but he stops himself. “You fucking pushed her. You did this!”
No.
No.
“Walk the fuck away, Ash.”
But I can’t. I won’t. Even if that means the end of my friendship with Dash. I pick Briar. I’ll choose Briar every fucking day if I have to.
She’s still not waking up. Shouldn’t she have woken up by now? I want to argue with him. Tell him that I was trying to protect her from him, not hurt her. But, as I see her crimson blood spreading across the hardwood floor, I know that there has never been a clearer sign in my life. I’m no good for her.
“Whitley!” Adrian snaps, and she jumps, her eyes darting up to his. “Get everyone out of here. The party is over.” She nods, panicked. “Now!” Adrian shouts, and she finally runs out of the room.
“Dash, keep her head and shoulders elevated, but don’t move her neck.” Dash closes his eyes and blows out his breath. “Okay. Okay, I got it.”
“Kelley, go get a clean towel or a washcloth or something. We need to stop the bleeding.”
I don’t want to walk away from her. I feel like if I do… I can’t even go down that road. She’s going to be fine. She just bumped her head. Ignoring the fear that grips my throat, stealing all my air, and the blood on my boots, I bolt into action.
“How do you know all this? She’s going to be okay, right?” I hear Dash ask Adrian as I’m walking out the door.
“When your mom is a doctor, you pick up a few things over the years.”
I don’t hear Dash’s response. I run down the hall toward the bathroom we almost went into before. Fuck, how was that only twenty minutes ago? How did everything get this bad in so little time? I barge in on a couple—some guy getting head as he sits on the toilet and a redhead between his knees—and yell at them to get the fuck out. They both jump up, and he trips over his pants as they run away.
“Fuck!” I can’t find a towel. Darting back into the hall, I see a door that’s narrower than the others and hope to fuck it’s a linen closet. I grab two thick, white towels and one washcloth and rush back to the room.
“She hasn’t woken up?” I ask, sliding the towels underneath her head. The longer she’s unconscious, the more I’m filled with a feeling of pure dread. Wisps of her blonde hair are stuck to the blood on her temple and cheek. Dash balled up his T-shirt, stopping the flow of blood, and he removes it to let me hold the washcloth there.
“Where the fuck is the ambulance?” Dash’s panic-stricken voice echoes my thoughts. It feels like it’s been hours, but in reality, it’s probably only been about two minutes since she fell.
“I’m going to make sure everyone’s out of the way and wait for them,” Adrian says, leaving us alone with Briar.
“I can’t…” I start, but my voice cracks. I clear my throat and try again. “I can’t lose her. She’s the only fucking good thing in my world.”
“Stop. The only reason you’re still here is because my sister needs me right now.”
I want to tell him to try it. Just fucking try to make me leave. But now isn’t the time. So, we wait in tense silence for what seems like days, until the paramedics or EMTs or whoever the fuck they are pile into the room. There’s about six of them, two of them carrying a stretcher.
Natalia comes barreling in on their heels, all the color gone from her face.
“Oh my God!” she shrieks.
“How long has she been unconscious?” one of the paramedics asks.
“I don’t know, fuck, maybe ten minutes?” Dash answers.
“What’s her name?”
“Briar Vale.”
“Briar, can you hear me?” another one asks, squatting down and checking her pulse. When she doesn’t respond, he presses his knuckles hard against the center of her chest.
“The fuck are you doing?” I bark, just barely stopping myself from smacking his hand away. I think I see her stir, but I can’t be sure.
“I’m testing her level of consciousness. Has she had anything to drink?”
“No, I don’t think so,” I reply, but, fuck, I’m not sure. “She hit her head on the corner of the table.” I gesture to the nightstand and realize that no one even thought to clean up the drugs and paraphernalia. It’s the last thing I’m worried about—it’s not my shit—but the disapproving look the medic shoots me tells me he thinks he’s got us all figured out.