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Daph.
The thought suddenly sobers me, snapping me free from my murderous trance. Abandoning the pig beneath me, I scramble to the door where my bloodied palms slap against the white wood.
“Daph.” I sniff. “Daph, it’s me.”
“Nicky?” Her voice sounds so small… so scared.
“Yeah, baby girl. It’s me. Open the door.”
The click of the lock sounds on the other side before the door suddenly cracks, allowing one mascara-smudged tear-filled eye to peek through the slit. We stand frozen for a moment, staring at one another through that two-inch sliver of space.
My heart races. Realizing I’m the one who has to be strong in this situation, I scramble to maintain my composure.
Three things I can see.
Slowly, she opens the door, granting me a better look. She’s shaking, her skin slick with sweat as she clutches the frame for support. Her clothes, however, are intact, leading me to believe he wasn’t able to touch her.
Two things I can hear.
Her breaths coming all too quickly, broken only by the soft intermittent whimpers escaping her.
One thing I can touch.
Reaching out, I press my hand to her cheek and find her burning up. Daphne gasps, her eyes closing as she leans into my touch.
X. If I had to put my life on it, I’d say the motherfucker gave her ecstasy.
I’ve never done drugs, but the signs are easy enough to spot. I drink, but I know my limit. Substances are a whole different ballgame. Aside from the risk it could pose to my standings as an athlete, I don’t see the appeal in willingly surrendering your control.
Her lids snap open, leaving her staring up at me with wide, awestruck eyes.
She’s gotta be rolling right now.
Daph swallows, the gesture suddenly causing me to worry about dehydration. Stepping around her, I make my way to the sink where I turn on the faucet.
“Daph, come here.”
She approaches, all the while keeping her gaze trained on my face.
“Bend down. I need you to drink some water. Gimme three big sips. Then we’re going home.”
She obliges, bringing her lips to the cool steady stream beneath the tap and taking far more than three gulps. Her hair falls along the side of her neck, prompting me to reach out and catch the stray locks, pushing them away from her face. The motion has my focus shifting to my hands, which I now realize are covered in blood.
Risking a glance in the mirror beside me, I’m met with a reflection that most would consider terrifying. Mark’s blood lashes across my skin in broad strokes. Certain sections are smeared, making me look downright deranged. I can’t tear my eyes away from the gruesome sight, all the while plagued with a single unsettling thought…
I’ve shown more of my true self in the last five minutes than I have in the last seventeen years of my life.
A slender hand comes into view, the clean unsullied skin of her palm pressing against my blood-spattered cheek, guiding my attention back to her. Daphne looks to me, slowly taking in my full appearance, yet her face bears no hints of fear.
For the first time in my life, I feel seen.
“You picked up,” she whispers softly into the quiet space between us.
My hand travels up to cover hers. Linking our fingers, I give her a gentle squeeze. “I’ll always pick up.”
***
“Here.” I hold back the blankets of J’s unoccupied bed, allowing a freshly showered Daphne to climb in. It’s been several hours since she ingested the X; her fever now gone. Though she’s still a little loopy, I think it’s safe to say we’re past the worst of it.
