Page 125 of A Dead Man's B-Side
My heart thudded against my chest so hard that I almost wanted to cut in between my ribs just to let it out. “I… Please.”
I choked out a sob as fear overtook me. “Please stop.”
Please stop.
I wanted out. I wanted to go back. This can’t be real.
“Is that what he said? Were those his last words? Did he beg as you did now?”
Morning came with a jolt to my muscles as I rose back to the land of the living. I woke with a pounding heart and trembling limbs that seemed to be on edge, ready to catch me if I fell over. I looked up at the familiar ceiling and let out a rush of air that felt lodged in my lungs. Blinking away the bleariness, I lifted my head forsomethingto focus on.
Upon setting my eyes on the lump hidden under the blankets, the recollection of last night came back to fill me in, and the heavy weight against my gut along with it.
Though, I wouldn’t lie and say I would rather face my mind again.
I didn’t know what time it was, but I was sure we missed the first half of our first period from how high in the sky the sun was.
I felt my sore muscles pull taut as I stood and tried my best to stretch the ache away from the uncomfortable sleep. An unconstrained groan pushed out from between my lips before I turned my attention to Paris, still asleep. I sighed, hesitantly pausing before I nudged Paris awake. I didn’t know what I would be faced with, but there was only one way of figuring that out. “Paris.” No sounds came.
I tried not to panic as my hand pressed against the duvet, feeling the rise and fall of her chest as relief filled me.
This time, after nudging slightly harder, she merely let out a gruff sound. “Paris, you have to get up and eat something.”
The Dining Hall should be open now, and I wondered if I could run out and grab her a quick meal instead.
Finding it best, it was exactly what I chose to do, slipping out of her dorm with silent, furtive steps and returning in the same manner with a plate of salmon toast and a large cup of water. I found it odd, the secrecy I felt I had to move under, despite the vacant Quarter.
However, I’d been missing more and more of Mr Browne’s classes, albeit unintentionally, and I felt that one of these days he’d come searching for me.
Despite this, I was grateful for the reasonable absence. I didn’t want to look at Mr Browne and force any sort of normalcy I wasn’t up to feeling or portraying.
“Paris,” I called as I entered back into her unlocked dorm–a struggle with my hands full. I found her sitting up and looking around, as if lost. Her duvet pooled around her waist as she squinted at the light washing away last night’s bad trip through the curtain-free windows.
“Here.” I placed the plate and cup on her nightstand. “Eat this lest you get sick.”
Her eyes didn’t gain clarity, even when they shifted to gaze at me, a foggy sheen behind the glassy screen. She was too lost in the white void of her mind and the static scratching in her ears.
My jaw clenched as I forced the words out, a bit louder, “I’m going to call a meeting tonight. To give an update on Callum Queen. Besides that…”
Swiftly, before she could object, I walked to where she placed the small white bag and found it nestled between two papers, likely class notes, in the first drawer of her nightstand, “I’m taking this.” I lifted it up to her eye level and watched as the fog slowly cleared with every slow blink she took. “Anything else you have?”
She didn't speak for a long time, until my arm began to ache from how long I’d been holding it up, and then finally, “What–… Sasha, what are you talking about?”
I let out a strained sigh at her raspy words, shaking my head and trying to push down the frustration. “Where is the rest of it, Paris? I’m not an idiot, so don’t lie. I know how this works.”
I shoved the bag in my trouser pocket, well aware of the risks involved in carrying it, yet I remained careless, what with the protection Thaddeus promised.
I was sure it didn’t cover a situation such as this one, but I let myself be comforted by the thought, nonetheless.
She groaned and ran her hands over her face, shoving her thumbs over her eyelids and smudging her eye makeup further. “I don’t know, Sasha. I don’t know.”
“Paris… Don't lie to me.”
“I–…” She went to speak before her eyes fell on the cup of water, and she didn’t wait before surging for it, downing it as if it were a shot of alcohol.
When she finished and wiped the drops of water slipping down her chin with the back of her hand, she tried again. “Sasha… Okay. Okay, that has all happened.” She eyed the toast for barely a few moments before giving in and reaching for the plate as well, speaking again through mouthfuls, “You can’t tell anyone, Sasha.”
I reared my head back at her words, wanting to claw my hair out. “Do you think that’s my next move? Paris, you were on drugs. You went to rehab and got better, and now you’re relapsing.”
