His brain cried “Stop!” but he ignored it. He pulled her to the floor and climbed on top of her, trapping her hands above her head. She screamed in his face, and he muffled her cry with his mouth.
He kissed her hard and didn’t wait for the inevitable bite on his lips. He sank his teeth into her lips first and listened as she yelped in pain. He thrust his tongue deep inside her mouth, and she pushed against it with her own, trying to purge it. She wrestled against him, grunting and straining and snapping her teeth. Her face reflected a violent anger that promised him further torture and heartache.
He trapped her face in his hands, forced her to stay still as the tears plopped one by one from his eyes onto her cheeks and forehead.
“Forgive me,” he cried.
She stared blankly at him.
“Forgive me!” he roared in her face.
He kissed her again—feverish and desperate. This time she didn’t fight. This time she responded. A little. She opened her mouth to him, let him kiss her deeply, giving him the illusion of forgiveness. He knew that’s exactly what it was, but he’d gone so long without tasting her mouth, that he didn’t care if it was fake. He didn’t care about her anger. He’d keep kissing her because he was desperate to be close to her, even if it didn’t really count.
He pulled back and studied her face. There was nothing. No light in her eyes. No flush to her cheeks. She had morphed into a living dead person. He couldn’t stand to look at her anymore and turned his face away. He climbed off of her and walked to the couch. She lay on the floor a minute longer, staring at the ceiling, deciding where to go. No place seemed particularly fun, but there was only one place where she could escape with liquor. And it wasn’t here. So she peeled herself off the floor, grabbed her purse, and headed out the door.
“Where have you been?!” Mark shouted as soon as Cadence walked through the door.
“What the hell?” she shot back.
“Your brother’s in the hospital! I’ve been trying to get in touch with you!” He grabbed her upper arm and hauled her back out the door. He escorted her to his car and all but threw her in the seat.
“Oh my God,” Cadence whispered. The panic was immediate. “What happened?”
Mark slammed the door and started the engine. “Car accident.”
“Oh my God.”
“One of his friends died,” Mark went on.
“What?!”
“Charlie. I think his name’s Charlie. He was driving. They were wasted.” Mark pulled out of the parking lot and headed for Northside Hospital.
“WHAT?!”
“I spoke with your mother over the phone. She was hysterical. She tried to call you.” He flashed her an angry look. “Where the hell have you been?”
“I was with Carrie,” she said absently. She couldn’t process anything he’d just told her. She couldn’t invoke what she thought should be an appropriate response to the information. She should be bawling hysterically, but her eyes were bone dry.
“Getting drunk?” he spat.
She ignored him. “What else do you know?”
“Nothing. I told you everything I know.”
Mark tossed a bag on her lap. She hadn’t noticed him carrying anything.
“Get yourself together,” he barked as he turned onto Roswell Road. His tone held a degree of disgust.
Her hand shook as she pulled down the visor and flipped the mirror open. She didn’t want to look at herself. She knew she was a hung-over mess. She didn’t want to look so disheveled when she saw Ollie for the first time. It was shameful and insulting, so she opened the bag to see what Mark had packed to help her look respectable.
She cleaned her eyes first, gliding the makeup-removing cloth over the smudged blackness of her liner and mascara. She used the mouthwash next, but she had nowhere to spit it, so she swallowed instead. It burned her throat, much like the vodka she drank the night before. She brushed the knots out of her hair and pulled it into a ponytail. She noticed a fresh shirt in the bag, and changed out of her smoke-laden one, ignoring the passengers in passing cars staring at her.
She closed the bag and sat back in her seat.
“Will he be all right?” She hadn’t asked earlier because she was too scared of the answer.
“Yes,” Mark replied.
She sighed relief, clutching the door handle because her body was shaking, and she didn’t know how to stop it.
She followed Mark down the hospital corridor for Oliver’s room. Mr. Miller opened the door. He nodded and moved aside, allowing Cadence in first. She ran to her brother’s bed, and he smiled when he saw her.
“Ollie,” she breathed, grabbing his hand. Her knuckles grazed the IV, and he hissed. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, sitting down beside him carefully. She never looked at her father. She was unaware that her mother was in the room.
“I’m an idiot,” he said.
Cadence shook her head.
“I am,” he insisted.
He spoke like it was a stupid skateboarding accident. Like he shouldn’t have run that rail because it was too steep, and he knew he’d break his arm. Did he not know about Charlie?
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Cadence said.