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“What happened to Miss Camilla?” he asked, bending over her. “Why is there so much blood on you? Are you hurt? Oh...wait. It’s her?”
“There’s no time to explain,” I said through a panic-choked voice. “Hurry up and bring a car to the front. We need to drive her to the emergency room.”
“Y-yes. Stay with her,” Hubert mumbled. “I’ll get the car.”
Looking down at her, I couldn’t even tell if she was breathing. The sleeves of my shirt felt wet and warm. Milla was still bleeding.
Guilt and fear over what I’d done was starting to overwhelm me.
I forced myself to breathe, to calm down.She’s going to be fine, I told myself.Nurses and doctors will patch her up and she’ll be okay.
However, a part of me couldn’t stop thinking of the consequences of a brutal head injury like this.
“I’ll be responsible for you,” I vowed to her. “No matter what happens, I’ll take care of you.”
With that, I strode forward.
Reaching the doorway of the entrance hall, I spotted a familiar car. Hubert honked and hollered. “Get in the back, Master Noah,” he shouted and threw open the backseat door.
Hurrying toward the car, I cautiously climbed in with Milla on my lap.
I was glad Hubert was around to help. I’d have liked Corey and Caleb to be here but they were both holed up at the Elite House that very moment. The end-of-term parties were always wild with plenty of booze and weed to go around.
“Hurry, Hubert,” I groaned as Milla’s blood steadily stained the front of my shirt.
“Let’s not get into an accident ourselves,” the old valet mumbled.
The traffic on the way downtown was bad. Every time we stopped at a signal, my blood boiled.
Please be okay, I silently prayed.
41
Caleb
A coughing fit woke me from a deep sleep. My throat felt hopelessly dry and itchy as I blinked my eyes open. At once, I felt a heavy arm draped over my chest. Glancing to the side, I found Corey slumped over my body.
“Ugh! What a baby,” I groaned, breaking into another coughing session.
Muttering curses, I pushed my brother away and sat up. My head throbbed and ached.
Looking around, I found several other guys and girls passed out on the floor and the couches.
My gaze fell on a half-full bottle of beer nearby. Not caring about anything, I grabbed it and drank it to soothe my parched throat.
My thirst quenched, I became aware of the sick, nauseous feeling in my stomach. “Ugh,” I groaned as the awful feeling of being hungover swept over me.
Slowly getting to my feet, I dragged my body off the couch and headed into the kitchen downstairs. A couple of people were sleeping on the dining counter.
I checked the ornamental wall-mounted clock. It was close to three P.M. already and no one looked like they were getting up any time soon.
Ignoring them, I got started with making coffee. It was the only thing that could make me feel better. When I didn’t feel like death, I could make myself an egg sandwich but for now, I needed the bitter concoction to bring me to life.
It was pure agony to wait for the coffee to drip into the pot.
Going to the sink, I splashed my face with plenty of water. The coldness helped freshen me a fraction but I still felt groggy.
When the coffee was ready, I poured myself a cup. Not bothering to add any sugar or cream, I took several large gulps of the hot beverage.
