Footsteps rushed in—too many, too fast—disturbing the stillness I’d sunk into. The house reacted to them, air moving for the first time in weeks. Months. Someone swore under their breath.
“Jesus Christ,” Jet muttered.
“Elliot?” Dix said, quieter. Like she already knew.
Mia reached me first. She stopped dead in the doorway. “Oh my god.” Her voice broke on the last word.
I turned my face into the pillow, retreating into darkness. Every part of me felt stiff. Everything ached from being clenched too long. My skin felt wrong—clammy in some places, numb inothers. I could feel the mattress pressing into my ribs, my hips, the back of my skull like it was slowly swallowing me whole.
A cold hand brushed my shoulder.
I flinched violently.
A sound tore out of me—half gasp, half cry—raw and involuntary. My muscles spasmed. My breath came in jagged pulls. My hands clawed at the sheets like I needed to anchor myself to the bed.
“Hey-hey-El, it’s me,” Mia whispered immediately, panic bleeding into every syllable. “It’s just me. Beach boy. God, you scared us.”
The nickname hit somewhere deep and painful.
The guys hovered behind her. I could feel them without looking—their fear thick in the air, pressing into the room. Drax had gone completely still. Jet started talking too fast, words tumbling over each other like noise could fix this. Dix stood frozen near the door, eyes flicking between me and the empty water glass on the nightstand, like she was doing mental math she didn’t like the answer to.
“When did you last eat?” Mia asked softly.
I didn’t answer.
“When did you last drink anything?”
The worddrinkscraped down my throat. My stomach twisted. Still, I said nothing.
She touched my cheek then, fingers cool against overheated skin. Her breath hitched. “El… you’re burning up.”
I registered distantly that I hadn’t shaved. That my lips were cracked enough to sting when I breathed. That my skin felt tacky, unhealthy.
“You need help,” she said, voice trembling now. “You can’t do this to yourself.”
Help felt like a lie. A theory. A word people used when they didn’t understand that some things were already over. A brokensound crawled out of my chest—something between a grunt and a sob.
They didn’t argue. Not really. They spoke in low voices, careful and clipped, like they were standing on thin ice. At some point Mia sat on the bed beside me and slid an arm around my shoulders. I let her. I didn’t have the strength to resist.
“You’re worth more than this,” she whispered into my hair. “You hear me? What he did—how he left—that doesn’t get to decide what happens to you.”
Her words landed painfully. Sharp in a different way.
When they tried to get me upright, my body betrayed me immediately. My legs buckled the second my feet hit the floor. Dizziness crashed over me, black spots blooming in my vision. My heart slammed wildly, panic firing through my veins.
I gagged. Nothing came up but my body kept retching like it expected something to.
“Okay—okay, easy,” Drax said, steady hands catching me. “We’ve got you.”
They moved slowly, deliberately, like I might shatter if handled wrong. The shower was too loud. Too real. The water hit my skin and I slid down the wall, folding in on myself, forehead pressed to tile that felt unbearably cold.
Mia knelt beside me, fingers threading through my hair. “It’s okay,” she murmured, even as tears slid down her face. “You don’t have to be strong. You don’t have to do anything right now.”
I broke then.
The sob tore out of me violently, ripping through my chest. I collapsed into her, shaking so hard my teeth chattered. My fingers fisted in her shirt like I was drowning and she was the only thing keeping my head above water.
“It hurts,” I gasped. “It won’t stop hurting.”
