My hands shake as I unlock the door with the spare key.
“Clara?!”
The apartment is silent.
“Clara!”
I rush into her bedroom.
She’s lying on the bed, barely conscious.
I drop beside her instantly.
“Clara! Wake up!”
I pull her into my arms.
“I’m here,” I whisper desperately. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”
Her eyes flutter open slightly.
She looks at me.
Weak.
But strangely calm.
“Era…” she whispers.
Tears spill down my face.
“No, no. Stay with me.”
Her fingers grip my sleeve weakly.
“I think the noise in my head is finally quiet,” she murmurs.
My heart shatters.
“Clara, don’t say that.”
She gives me the faintest smile.
“I love you,” she whispers. Her voice softens. “And I’m not scared anymore.”
“No,” I beg. “Clara, stay with me.”
Sirens echo outside the building. Paramedics burst through the door moments later. They pull her from my arms and rush her out of the apartment.
The ride to the hospital is a blur of flashing lights and shouted instructions. I sit in the waiting room afterward, shaking uncontrollably, my hands still smelling like Clara’s hair. Minutes stretch into hours. Finally a doctor walks toward me. His face already tells me the answer before he speaks.
“We did everything we could,” he says gently. “But there were complications from the overdose.”
My heart stops.
“She didn’t make it.”
The words echo in the sterile hallway, my knees give out beneath me. The world tilts as I collapse onto the cold hospital floor. Someone catches my shoulder, someone says my name but I can’t hear them anymore.
