“He wasn’t dead when we got here,” Asch hisses. “He couldn’t have been. They used an epi-pen. I saw that. They wouldn’t do that for a dead person, right?”
I sneer at him. “They would if they thought he was still alive,” I retort. “You think he miraculously made it all that way and died here then?”
I wish I thought that was the case.
I wish I thought that he hadn’t died alone.
I don’t.
“Does it make a difference?” Blaze asks quietly. “Either way, he’s dead.”
Those words ring in my ears, and my blood boils in my veins. “Yeah,” I say harshly. “He’s dead. He’s dead because those fuckers pushed him into doing something stupid.”
He’s dead because I was too drunk to do anything about it.
Well, I’ve sobered up now.
“We did everything we could,” Asch says, his voice as calm and rational as ever, and it’sinfuriating.
“No. No, we fucking didn’t!” I shout.
“Sir!” the nurse at the front desk says. “I need you to calm down. You’re scaring the other patients.”
Fuck the other patients. I don’t care about them. I care about Franklin — Franklin, who was kind and earnest and spoke about his brand-new girlfriend with the sort of passion that comes with a first love.
I quiet down anyway. “It never should’ve happened,” I say.
“No,” Asch says, and he glances in the direction of the nurse. “It shouldn’t have. But it won’t happen again. We’re going to get some things to keep on hand. Epi-pens, Narcan, whatever else we need to.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Fat lot of good that’s going to do now.”
We stand quietly for several long minutes, and I can feel parts of myself crumbling. I thought I was beyond these types of reactions. My father would beat me for being sosensitive.
But it still hurts.
Blaze runs his hand over his face. “We have to… we have to take responsibility.” He tosses the tissue into the trash. “Let’s go back. There’s no point waiting around here.”
Take responsibility.
Like that’s going to do a goddamn thing.
I open my mouth to protest.
“We can’t change anything now,” Asch says quietly before I can say anything, standing up. “And we all stink. We need to shower. Change clothes.”
I don’t want to shower or get changed.
I want to beat the shit out of Brock and Tate for this.
I want to do worse than that.
I want to rip open his insides while he screams for mercy.
I won’t give it to him.
“Go bring the car around, Asch,” Blaze orders.
Asch nods and heads out.
