I want to fight her. I want to scream that I don't need sleep, that I need momentum, and to keep moving before the high crashes. But her hand is already on my elbow, steering me toward the bathroom, and some small, exhausted part of me lets her.
She starts the shower, and I get in. I stand under the hot water until my skin turns pink, and the last traces of my earlier desperation swirl down the drain.
When I turn off the faucet, Demi wraps me in a towel, dries my hair with another, and doesn't comment on the fresh bruises blooming along my collarbone or the way my hands still tremble.
She makes me scrambled eggs and toast. I eat sitting on the counter while she leans against the fridge, arms crossed, watching me as if I might bolt.
Then she quietly asks, "What were you doing in your closet?"
I freeze with the fork halfway to my mouth.
"You can tell me. I won't judge," she promises.
I set down my fork and slide my phone to her. "Look at the Instagram stories."
She picks up the phone, swipes through them, and puts it down. She arches her eyebrows. "Well, that's one way to get his attention."
I insist, "He needed to see me."
"That's not smart, Blue."
"It's a private account," I point out.
She exhales through her nose. "Mikhail's watching. Red's in trouble up to his eyeballs because of what happened. You keep pushing like this, and they're going to find out before it's safe."
My voice is steady. "Let them. I don't need to hide." I put the final mouthful of eggs in my mouth and chew.
She picks up my empty plate, sets it in the sink, and warns, "Have you figured out how to tell your father about Red without getting him killed?"
I stay quiet.
She warns, "Until you do, you need to be smart."
"It's a private account," I remind her.
"And Mikhail is probably tracking all of Red's accounts," she points out.
I groan and put my arms on the counter, then bury my face in them. "Why does our family always have to ruin everything for us?"
She softly replies, "Sorry, babe. It is what it is. We'll figure it out, but until we do, you need to be smarter."
I shake my head inside my arms.
"Come on. Let's get you in bed so you can get some sleep."
I begrudgingly rise and follow her into the bedroom. I crawl under the covers, still wearing Red's shirt.
Demi slides in beside me, fully clothed, and tucks herself against my back like a shield. Her arm drapes over my waist. Her breath warms the nape of my neck. She orders, "Sleep."
"I can't."
"You will."
She's right. Exhaustion hits like a drug. My eyelids droop. The last thing I register is her fingers threading through mine, squeezing once, and then darkness pulls me under.
When I wake, it's late afternoon. Sunlight slices through the blinds in gold bars across the bed. Demi's gone, but there's a note on the pillow.
Babe,
