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It’s dark inside. I feel around for the light switch, but when it flips on, it reveals nothing. One room left.
TJ opens the door and light spills out into the hallway. He’s blocking my view, unmoving, hand still holding onto the doorknob. Several seconds tick by before he rushes into the room.
I watch as he drops to the floor.
I watch as he checks for a pulse.
I watch as he stands and stalks over to the dresser.
It’s like there’s a delay between what I’m seeing and what’s actually happening. There must be, because I’m unable to react. Unable to move. Unable to process what I’m witnessing.
The crash of the dresser flipping over snaps me out of my freeze frame. Drawers open, clothes spilling out onto the floor. TJ drops back down and cradles Kimmie in his arms, rocking her back and forth.
A pile of what looks like lumpy oatmeal sits on the carpet beside them. A needle gleams in the light.
It all hits me at once. My hands cover my mouth as my knees buckle.
“Call 911.” TJ’s voice is low.
“Is she … is …” The words are caught in my throat. I don’t want to ask.
Tears stream down TJ’s cheeks as he presses his lips to the top of Kimmie’s head. “She’s gone.”
“No. She can’t … she can’t be. We have to get ready for the dance.”
TJ’s eyes meet mine, apologetic and filled with sorrow. “She’s gone, Carla. We’re too late.”
I reach for Kimmie’s arm and press two fingers to her wrist. Squeezing my eyes shut, I wait for a pulse. I wait and I wait, willing the feeling of even the faintest twitch. But nothing comes. Her skin already feels cool to the touch.
“No,” I say between sobs. “No.”
TJ lays her body gently on the carpet and caresses her hair. Then his arms are around me.
“No.” It’s the only word I can muster. How can this be? How can Kimmie be dead? I just saw her at the nail salon. She was fine. Everything was fine. How did this happen?
I bury my face in TJ’s chest, hot tears soaking his shirt.
“I need to call the police. Do you want to wait in the truck?”
I shake my head. “How … what happened?”
TJ sucks in a staggered breath and slips his phone out of his pocket. “Sometimes, when you use heroin, it makes you sick. It looks like she passed out on her back, threw up, and … she choked.” His gaze drops to his phone as he dials.
I crawl to Kimmie and hold her head in my lap. Moisture wells in my eyes and the tears roll off my cheeks, dripping into her golden hair. I glance at her perfectly manicured nails and choke back a sob. She was supposed to be dancing tonight. Laughing. Having fun. She’s just a kid. Had her whole life in front of her. How can her life be over?
My phone buzzes in my back pocket, but I don’t have the courage to answer it. I know it’s Mallory checking in. How am I going to break this news to her and Charlotte? They’re going to be devastated.
I’m devastated.
My watery eyes drift to TJ. He’s devastated too.
His head hangs, staring at the phone long after he ended the call. His heart is breaking. I can see it all over his face. Feel it rolling off him in waves of grief. He feels responsible.
I know this because I feel the same.
It’s late when we pull in front of the gym.
TJ and I haven’t spoken a word since we left Kimmie’s house. The only time he let go of my hand was when we climbed into his truck. He held my hand when the police arrived. He held my hand as the coroner zippered Kimmie into the black bag. He held my hand as he drove. He held my hand while I called Mallory. It’s almost as if he’s afraid I’ll float away, like a balloon on a string when you release it.
