Page 65 of Deck of Scarlets
“No… no,” I whispered.
Josh stepped closer; his hands raised. “Remi.”
“No…” I kept shaking my head, backing up until my ass hit my desk, rattling whatever contents were inside the drawers. And it sounded like my flask resided inside one of them.
Throwing shit left and right out of the drawers, the flask appeared under some notebooks. I snatched it, untwisting the cap in haste, when strong hands grabbed me by the arms, stopping my attempt to get a sip.
“Let me go!” I screamed, throwing my head back, hitting a very chiseled chin.
“Ow! Remi, what the fuck are you doing?” We struggled against one another, fighting for the flask in my hands.
“I need it. Please, I need it!” I cried, trying to twist out of his hold, which only resulted in the flask being knocked from my hand, crashing to the floor, staining the cream-colored rug.
I collapsed to my knees, trying to scoop whatever alcohol I could with the palm of my hands, sipping it.
“Rem—” Josh knelt in front of me, sniffing what was in my hands. “Oh.”
I drank what I could, which were little droplets of my father’s whiskey, then I licked my hands clean like the fucking addict that I was, begging for any of it to run through my bloodstream, hoping to soothe the pain that made it hard to breathe.
Josh put his hands on my shoulders. “How long, Remi? How long have you been like this?”
Shaking my head, I fell into his arms, letting my emotions boil over, sobbing until tears could no longer form and fall. “All her stuff is gone.”
He stroked my hair, a tender touch I wasn’t expecting. “I’m so sorry.”
“Please, get it back,” I choked through my tired sobs, shaking in his arms. “Please, it’s all she had left.”
He continued to stroke my hair, rocking us back and forth. Whatever spat we had prior didn’t matter as he tried to soothe my sorrow.
I welcomed the sudden silence. I welcomed the emotions that were sure to drown me. There was nothing left of her stuff, nothing left of her and how she lived and breathed, right down to the shitty color scheme of her bedspread. The smell of whiskey in the air, along with the sounds of my cries against Josh’s chest, couldn’t snuff out the agony that began to build within my heart. Breathing became harder with each passing second, my chest rising and falling as I sobbed without restraint. The Magidoz demon stood at the corners of my mind, the smell of decaying flesh invading my senses. Everything became too real too fast.
I was going to be sick.
I turned, breaking free from Josh, and found my waste basket, dumping all the contents of my stomach inside the small bucket, choking back gasps.
He held my hair, rubbing my back, whispering calming words, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
Because all that was left was her body, stone-cold and immobile. And I could do nothing about it.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Josh called for maintenance after stashing his bow and quiver inside my closet. Chloe arrived moments ago to help me to my feet, fixing my bed and pillows, even went as far as emptying my waste basket. She sat me down, only to put everything back I threw from my drawers, but not the flask. She handed it straight to Josh, who took it upon himself to hide it on his person. Chloe gave me a water bottle and a black shirt for Josh before saying her goodbyes. Anna only stopped by for a brief second to dump my backpack on the floor, avoiding acknowledging either of us.
Josh then stripped off his long-sleeve shirt, putting it with the rest of his stuff. His body, sculpted to perfection, didn’t have the effect I wanted. I blamed the numbness settling into my bones, because on any other day, I would have been drooling.
Instead, I stared aimlessly at the ceiling, swaying on my bed, letting everything consume me.
Maintenance arrived, speaking to Josh about what happened. I chose to block it out, not wanting to hear the excuses he was making for me. I wasn’t sure how I broke the door in the first place. Maybe from adrenaline? Fear? Regardless, he fixed it within thirty minutes, stating he might have to request a new door in the next month if it started to break from excessive use.
Josh eventually joined me on the bed but kept silent. I sensed him watching me, his eyes traveling all over my body, possibly to check if I had any hidden injuries.
What seemed like hours were merely minutes, and he cleared his throat, trying to get my attention. “Remi, we have to talk about what happened.”
Did we? Could I just stay frozen there forever? Never having to face demons or knowing Heather might never wake up?
“Did anyone explain to you what happens after you are Blessed?”
That caught my attention. Our eyes locked, and he searched my face, probably trying to decipher how I was feeling, which was absolutely nothing.