“Maybe, if it wasn’t an hour and a half.”
Ambrose’s door is open, too. I hadn’t dared to glance over earlier with Shane, but when Valaria barges straight in, I follow.
“Right. Why the fuck are you still in bed!”
A metallic stench hits me in the face as I follow her inside, both of us stopping in the middle of the room.
My toes wiggle on the carpet, trying to find something soft that’ll bring comfort. However, the fibers irritate my skin until I lift each foot and then flatten it back down.
Nothing inside me feels right without my socks, a horrible feeling of dread bubbling in my stomach.
Ambrose lies in the bed, his face painted white, his body looking ghostly beneath the black satin sheets.
That isn’t like him.
The mom he left back in Ireland was of mixed race. He’s inherited her skin and hair tones. He shouldn’t look so pale against those dark sheets.
I push around a deathly still Valaria, “Ambrose?”
Following my lead, Valaria breaks free of her trance and steps around his bed. I climb on top of it, and the dread in my stomach sinks deep.
“Ambrose!” I pull back the sheets to see the bloodstains covering his arms and the bed below him. “Oh, my god, no. No!”
I turn his head to me, feeling at his mouth to see if any air is leaving his cracked, open lips.
Maybe it’s because my hands sweat so badly, or maybe it’s because my fingers are shaking away from his mouth, but I feel nothing.
Valaria’s lips part, and she steps back, her heel cracking something on the floor. She bends, picking up Ambrose’s phone and quickly unlocks it.
His wrists wedge under his body from where he lies awkwardly. Pulling both out, I take his bloody hands in mine. They’re freezing and sticky with blood. Turning them over reveals the deep cuts on his wrists.
Oh, my god.
Valaria drops low at the side of his bed. “He was calling for help.”
“But he did this to himself?” I say to her, choking on each word.
“Then, he changed his mind, or he didn’t mean to go this deep.” She slams the number one into his keypad and waits for the operator to pick up.
“God, what have you done?” A sob leaves me shaking with his hands against my lips and tears streaming from my face.
Valaria dares to do what I can’t. With shaking fingers, she searches Ambrose’s throat for a pulse.
He wouldn’t like it—her touching him while he’s not able to push her away. But I say nothing.
Her face freezes, a perfect mask revealing nothing.
Sealing my lips, I wait for her to say something, to say anything, holding my breath until she does.
Tears drop onto Ambrose’s skin, creating trails of sorrow in the blood on his fingers.
“There’s a pulse, but it’s faint.”
Air floods from me. “Are you sure? Are you sure!” I ask twice before she has the chance to answer even once.
“Yes.” I don’t know if that word is for me or the person on the phone as she continues. “We need an ambulance, please. We’re at—fuck, what’s the address again?”
“We’re at La’Darragh Manor—The Vice Orphanage, Villa Row, Carbonado Valley.” I stutter out the words.
