She was leaning against the wall near the stairwell, scrolling through her phone, probably waiting for me. She always found me when I disappeared. She glanced up just as I stumbled forward, still half-carrying, half-dragging him. And her expression changed. "—The hell happened?" Her voice was sharp, cutting straight through my panic. I couldn't answer. I didn't even know what to say.
Vee didn't wait. She moved. One second, she was just staring. The next, she was on his other side, ducking under his arm, shifting some of his weight onto herself like she had done this a hundred times before. "Where are we taking him?" she asked, adjusting her grip. I swallowed, my throat raw. "His dorm." Vee nodded once, and just like that, we moved. She didn't ask questions. She didn't push. Even though I knew she wanted to.
Even though I could feel her sharp glances every time he let out a strained breath or his body twitched in some half-conscious nightmare. By the time we got to his door, he was barely holding himself up at all. I fumbled for the key I had taken from his pocket, my hands shaking as I shoved it into the lock. The door clicked open, and we stumbled inside. The moment we lowered him onto the bed, Vee let go first. I didn't. I couldn't.
His fingers were curled into the fabric of my sleeve,
his breath uneven, his face still caught in the lingering remains of whatever had just happened to him. Vee stood back, arms crossed, watching.
"You gonna tell me what the hell is going on?" I swallowed hard. "He just—collapsed." Vee arched a brow. Bullshit. "You found him like this?" Silence. She exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down her face. "I don't like this," she muttered. "He looks like he just got pulled out of hell, and you look like you're about to throw up. What are we dealing with here?"
I opened my mouth—but nothing came out. I couldn't explain it. Not the man. Not the voice. Not the liquid still burning a hole in my pocket. I didn't know how to say it. "Just help me, Vee." My voice cracked. "Please." Vee stared at me for a second too long. Then, she sighed. And without another word, she helped. She grabbed the spare blanket off the chair and covered him, checking his pulse, checking his breathing, checking me. I hated how well she knew me. Once she was done, she lingered by the door. Arms crossed. Eyes sharp. "You're not telling me something." I looked down. Didn't answer.
Vee sighed again, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Fine. But I'm not letting this go." She hesitated, then finally left, closing the door behind her. And I just stood there. The silence pressing in. The weight of everything crushing down. I sat down on the floor beside his bed, letting myself process. Before finally getting up to tend to his wounds with my own shaky hands.