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“Maybe,” I said. “But you should really go to the hospital.”

“What?” Her eyes got wide. “No, I’m not going to the hospital.”

“Whatever drug he gave you will still be in your blood.”

Cassie shook her head. “No! My folks. I don’t want them to hear about this. They’ll be devastated.”

“They’ll want that motherfucker to get nailed to the wall,” I said, realizing my voice was rising in anger.

Cassie looked away. I wanted to kick myself. I didn’t know how she felt, what she’d been through tonight. I had no right to make demands over how she handled this. Whatever she wanted to do, whatever would make her feel safe, was what needed to happen now.

“I’m sorry, Cassie, I’m a dick. Tell me what you need and I’ll get it for you.”

She put a hand to her mouth. “I’d give a lot for a drink of water right now.”

Her house was just down the street. Yet we both knew that there was a good chance she might run into one of her parents and she was still obviously so upset and traumatized they would have been alarmed. And I also couldn’t leave her here, not even for a minute to dash back to the house.

“You think if I help you walk you can make it two blocks to the gas station on the corner at Baseline Road? You could get some water, clean up in the restroom, maybe try to eat something light if your stomach can handle it.”

She thought about it and then nodded. I was trying to guess what that fucker had given her. It could be anything. She was more lucid every second so she must have thrown up enough of it before the effects penetrated completely. If he’d given her something real hardcore she would have been totally unconscious in minutes, completely vulnerable to whatever kind of disgusting things he had in mind. The idea made me feel murderous again but I wouldn’t tell her that. Cassie needed protection right now, not violence.

I helped her up, wondering if it would be easier to just carry her but she leaned into me and let me support her with one arm around her waist.

“Wait, my purse,” she said, pointing to a pink handbag that was lying sadly on the concrete. I scooped it up for her and set it on my own shoulder.

“This is a good look for me,” I said as the thing bounced against my hip. “What do you think?”

She managed a snort of laughter and I tightened my arm around her waist. We made slow progress but after about fifteen minutes we reached the gas station with my arm still around her waist as she did her best to walk a straight path. To anyone watching, Cassie just looked like a girl who probably had one too many drinks tonight. No one would be able to guess what had nearly happened to her.

I tensed up a little when we reached the doors of the little store attached to the gas station. Every once in a while when I found myself in a place like this after dark I’d get hit with the memory of my dad’s murder. He’d walked through glass doors just like this, expecting to walk out five minutes later with the pack of cigarettes he’d left the house for. He exited the doors in a body bag.

“This goes better with your outfit,” I said to Cassie, giving up custody of the pink handbag when we were standing outside the door to the restroom.

“I’ll be out soon,” she promised.

“Take your time,” I said, making myself comfortable by leaning against the wall right across from the bathroom door. “I’ll be waiting right here.”

The gas station attendant was a beefy guy in his forties and it was a little awkward standing outside the ladies’ room while he glared at me with suspicion but I’d told Cassie this was where I’d be so I wasn’t moving.

When she emerged ten minutes later she looked much better. Her face was pale but she walked steadier and she smiled when she saw me.

“I think I smell a little less like vomit now,” she said.

“I’m grateful,” I replied and she laughed.

I selected a few bottles of water and some soda crackers and set it all on the counter in front of the attendant, who treated me less suspiciously now that I was going to pay for something.

“I’ll take one of those, too,” Cassie said, pointing to the hot food counter where churros and hot dogs baked side by side beneath the heat lamp.

“The burrito?” the cashier asked and Cassie nodded.

“I doubt your stomach will thank you for a burrito right now,” I said and Cassie raised an eyebrow.

“I might be a slightly better judge of the condition of my stomach,” she said and I was glad she felt okay enough to make a sarcastic crack.

“Two burritos then,” I told the guy and he wrapped them both in brown paper sleeves before handing over all the purchases in a plastic bag.

When we were outside I exhaled loudly and Cassie noticed.

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