A knock on the door draws our attention. “‘Vil?” Trick calls.
Sasha strides to the door and opens it. “No. Not her blood.”
Trick exhales. “Good. Yeah. Fine.” He sucks in a breath and exhales. “Jesus Christ.” Then after a moment. “I’ll do a sweep and lock the gate. Fuck.”
* * *
Anvil
I kneel next to the bed, watching her, not sure what to do for her. When I reach out, she backs away and her voice is strange. She sounds lost.
“I don’t have anything. No phone. No clothes. Nothing,” she says. “I left without anything, and I’m not going back,” she says dazedly, tears dripping down her face. “I’m never going back,” she mumbles.
There’s a knock on the door. Her eyes dart to it.
I stand and go to the door. C stands just outside, holding Zoe at arm’s length to keep her from pushing forward.
Zoe’s crying again. She’s been crying on and off all night.
“She wants to see Rachel.”
“Wait,” I say, holding up a hand. I close the door.
“Zoe?” I ask.
She grimaces. “I can’t—she’ll cry, she’ll be so upset. I can’t.” She bites her lip.
I go to the door, open it, and step out, backing them up. “Z,” I say firmly. “Listen to me,” I order.
She nods, crying.
“She’s all right. If you pull yourself together, I’ll let you look at her from the doorway. No questions. Just in and out, so you’ll know she’s all right.”
“Why can’t she talk?” she asks with a quavering voice.
“She’s talking. Not about what happened. Just random shit. Come on,” I say, my voice firm. “Get it together. If she sees you upset, it’ll upset her. Be tough. I know you can. I’ve seen it.”
She nods, sucking in a breath and rubbing her eyes. “I need a minute. I need—let me wash my face.” She spins on her toes and walks away. In a minute or less, she’s back, her face clean and dry. “I’m fine. Let me see her.”
I open the door and back in a couple of feet.
“I’m just checking on you,” Zoe says calmly, looking at her. “Do you need anything?”
“No.”
“If you need anything, come and knock on my door. We don’t care what time it is. Right, Connor?”
“Right. Anytime,” C says.
Zoe takes a deep breath. “Okay.” Then she backs out slowly.
Rachel visibly relaxes when the door closes. She tilts to the side, falling over onto the pillow, lying in a strange half folded position. I resist the urge to pick her up and rearrange her in the bed.
“The light hurts my eyes.”
I flick the switches, dropping us into darkness.
“What are you going to do?” she asks.
