When will this torture end?
A gentle hand falls on my back.
I stiffen. Who’s in my apartment?
“Oh, Riles,” a man says. His voice is deep and cracks slightly as if seeing me on the ground is heartbreaking.
I look up slowly.
Nat?
I jump back, but not far because I’m too weak to make a fuss. Confusion laces my voice as I demand, “What are you doing in my apartment?”
Nat’s hand suspends in the air and his eyes widen when he looks down at me. “You gave me the key.”
“I did?”
He tilts his head. “You don’t remember?”
I squeeze my eyes shut.
I remember seeing him in the bar with Layla.
I remember drinking a lot more than I normally do.
I remember Cordelia asking me if I wanted to go home with Nat and I remember firmly telling her no.
Then…
I shake my head, but that makes my brain slosh around in my skull, so I stop immediately and bend over with a hand to my stomach.
“I brought you some water,” Nat says.
In any other occasion, I would never accept that cup. I believe in bathroom germs. The moment either food or drink is introduced to the air in a bathroom, it is—in my opinion—immediately contaminated.
But today, I thirstily drink from the cup.
My stomach gurgles loudly.
I’d be embarrassed if I wasn’t in so much pain.
“Did that help a bit?” Nat asks, his voice so low that I have to lean in to hear him.
“It still hurts,” I mutter.
Sure, I don’t quite remember how Nat got here, but I’m so glad I don’t have to endure this atrocious discomfort on my own.
“I checked your medicine cabinet, but you don’t have any stomach medication, so I texted Renthrow. Between him and Cordelia, I’m sure they have a mini-pharmacy stashed somewhere.”
As Nat speaks, I have a flash of a memory.
Him, helping me up the stairs.
Me stumbling on one of the steps.
Him putting me on his back and carrying me the rest of the way.
I shake my head. Did that really happen or am I recalling one of my memories of him as a child?
