A hand on my shoulder. A hand I didn’t recognize. A hand, ready and aimed to hurt. To slap. To squeeze. I flinched away, my skin pulling beneath something sticky, ripping at an open wound.
“El, it’s me. Come on. Open your eyes for me.”
Crescent? Why was Crescent here? His voice sounded rough, as if he’d been crying. I’d know. As his best friend, I should know. I’d made him cry before, but why was he crying now?
There was a shuffle just before warm breath spread across my cheek. He was right there, right in front of me. It sounded like he was bending down to me. “It’s Crescent, El. You’re in my apartment. It’s okay to open your eyes. I’ve got you.”
God, his voice had always been so soothing. Deep, with a smooth timbre. The color of sunshine after a week of cloudy days, golden and beautiful. A sunrise glowing pink, blue, and orange amongst forest fires below. In chaos, his voice was nothing of the sort.
Slowly, I pried my left eye open. It wouldn’t go all the way, stuck from what I assumed was swelling there. Sharp, intruding light flooded my eye, forcing my head back with a wince. “Fuck,”
“Shit, hold on.” At first, Crescent’s voice sounded far away. It got closer as his footsteps got faster. Was he jogging?
What felt like plastic handles went over my ears, sliding across the skin on the side of my head. Crescentmaneuvered what seemed to be glasses on my nose, moving them around gently. “Try that.”
I hesitantly opened both eyes. The light wasn’t as bad this time, the sunglasses Crescent had given me filtering it. “Thanks.”
He looked worried. Red rings sat around his eyes, bright enough to worry me as well, even through the glasses. “We need to change your bandages and get some meds into you. How are you feeling?”
I scrunched my face, blinking a few times. “Bandages?”
The moment the word came out of my mouth, I regretted it. Pain dripping with memories forced its way through the cobwebs in my skull, pounding to the beat of the stabbings. Jude chasing me. Jude getting me. Jude sitting on top of me, wailing on me with fists covered in poison. His eyes glowing with monstrous hunger. A hunger nothing could quell. Nothing but violence.
“You can’t run away from me, Elio.”
I tried to sit up as ghostlike hands started to wrap around my middle and squeeze. The tip of my tongue went numb, just as the space between my shoulder blades began to ache and scream.
My entire body screamed. For help, or for death, I couldn’t be sure, but the screams rose from the bottom of my spine, curling all the way up my throat until they escaped from my lips.
Crescent flinched away for just a moment, maybe only half a second, but I saw it. It made me stop, heaving and staring as I desperately tried to make sense of everything.
We stared at each other, my eyes only half open, half looking at the man before me. His long, curly hair falling just below his shoulders. The deep, cavernous turmoil resting in the usual light honey of his eyes. “Crescent,” I whispered.
“Yeah?” It was barely a breath, spoken on a long exhale.
I blanked. I fought through the thick, heavy maze of a fucking mess in my head, wondering why I’d said his name in the first place. I searched for something to explain it—to myself and him both. “Don’t you work today?”
More staring. It was warranted this time, though. The question took both of us by equal surprise. “Uh, no. I called in.”
“Oh.”
“How are you feeling?”
I watched as his eyes ran over my face. I followed them, looking down at myself. There were bandages all over me, covering what were undoubtedly wounds from Jude. “Who put these on me?”
Crescent rose from beside the couch, meandering into the kitchen. He spoke loud enough for me to hear, but not enough to hurt my head. “So, Sarah knew a doctor who would come over and help us out without forcing you to a hospital. He patched you up, and we have some medicine waiting at the pharmacy once we’re ready.”
He said “we” as if he’d also gotten himself into this hell of a mess. I shook my head, blinking a few times. A heavy, ever-present exhaustion settled deep within my bones. I had a million questions but not enough energy to ask them. “I’m sorry.”
Glass and medicine in hand, Crescent stood just a few feet away from the couch. “Why?”
Why? How dense had he gotten over the years? “Because of… everything. I shouldn’t even be here.”
“Don’t apologize.” He crouched beside me, handing me the glass and pill. When I opened my mouth, the skin of my lip pulled and tightened painfully. “There is absolutely no reason for you to be sorry. Can I change these?”
I nodded, not fully paying attention to what he wasasking. “This isn’t your mess to figure out, though. I signed up for this with Jude, not you.”
“Are you saying it’s your fault?”
