She steps further into the room, sighing. “Physically? She’ll be okay. She’s lost a lot of weight, and it’s important she’s introduced to proper, balanced meals slowly. Don’t just feed her enormous amounts; she’ll struggle with that. There are a lot of bruises all over her body, but they will all heal, and nothing’s been broken. But…’’
“Yes?”
Freya pauses, and I see a flicker of genuine sorrow for Blair flash in her eyes. It’s sincere, and for once in her life, she’s trying to find words to say instead of blurting out whatever comes to mind.
“I also did a rape kit. Usually, it’s supposed to be done within the first seventy-two hours of the assault, because bodies can start healing and remove traces of it. In some cases, if the injuries are more severe, the evidence will stay.’’
“And?”
Freya’s expression tells me everything I need to know. I slump into the chair nearby, a range of emotions flooding me.Rage, pain, and an utter and complete feeling of failure. It’s all my fault. If I had gotten to her quicker, it might not have happened. If I had never allowed her out of my sight, she never would’ve been taken away from me.
“Listen, Arlo,’’ Freya takes a reluctant step closer, and I can barely see her through the tears that swell in my eyes. “Blair… doesn’t remember it happening. She blacked out. Her mind was trying to protect her. All I can say is that she’s one strong woman. And I don’t say that to just anyone. She needs you now, more than ever. Because the moment those memories resurface, I cannot guarantee how she’ll react. She blames herself for all of this already.”
“She what?!”
Freya nods, and I close my eyes, then wipe off the tears. “I’d recommend she speaks to someone professionally. She’ll need it.”
“Where is she now?”
“I ran a bath for her, she’s taking it. She needs time to process it all. Just be patient with her. If you need anything else, just call me.”
Freya leaves, and I’m all alone. It’s as though someone had run me over with a truck, and a part of me died. I’m not sure what hurts more, the thought of Blair blaming herself for all of this, or the fact that it was my fault, not hers. The guilt starts to rip me on the inside, and it feels like I’m dying.
My hands find the bottle of whiskey again, and I start gulping it all down, and before I realize it, I've drunk more than half of the bottle. I squeeze it in my hand, tightly, unsure of how to proceed.
Aria’s in the hospital, Mom and Dad have gone MIA, and Blair’s suffering. I’m to blame for all of it. For not seeing Aria’s pain, for telling Mom and Dad to follow me, and for not protecting Blair in time. The most important people in my life are suffering, and I can’t do anything to help them.
I’m fucking useless and fucking pathetic.
When Blair enters the kitchen, the pain intensifies. Her hair is wet, and she’s wearing a pair of my sweats with my shirt, both of which are two sizes too big on her. There’s a small smile on her lips when she sees the food, and I push the plate toward the empty seat next to me.
“Smells delicious,” she notes, sitting down and starting to eat. My eyes don’t leave her face, and I don’t miss the sigh of content that slips from her lips. I let her eat in silence, not wanting to interrupt her.
My eyes roam all over her. Her fingers are more slender than I remember, her arms and legs thinner. Her complexion is paler, and when I notice the bruises all over her body, I’m barely suppressing the urge to kill Simmons myself.
But I can’t.
He’s Blair’s to kill.
She finishes half of the plate, then pushes it away from her and turns to look at me. “Where are Noah and Hudson?”
“They should be home soon.”
The lie slips from me with ease. I’m not sure where the fuck the two are, or if they’re even alive. Raven and Kaya are trying to track them down right now, and they’ve started by going to the place Mom and Dad had the shootout at.
“What about Aria?”
I pause. Blair should know — hell, she’ll find out eventually. With a deep breath, I softly reach for her hand, observing her reaction. Her brows narrow in confusion, but she tangles her fingers with mine, and I swallow thickly.
“Aria’s in the hospital.”
Blair’s eyes widen, worry flashing through them. “What? Why? Is she okay?”
“She…,” I pause, my throat tightening. “She attempted suicide.’’
My words are barely above a whisper, but judging by the way her hand tightens around mine, her face pales further, and her eyes widen, I know she heard me. For a beat, it’s silent. Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she clears her throat.
“Oh my God,” she whispers. “Why?”
