Page 12 of Frosted Torment

“Looks like he kicked your ass,” Jossy quipped.

I winced while stretching my neck with caution as Ivy helped me to stand.

She turned to Jossy with regret in her eyes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” she offered, “I only stepped out for a minute to check my voicemail.”

I shook my head, scanning my apartment. “You didn’t take me to the hospital?” I asked.

“Too much paperwork. And questions,” Jossy said with a grave expression.

Massaging my throbbing temples, I let them both help me onto the couch. “It feels like someone took a sledgehammer to my head.”

Ivy sat with me, then took my hand and traced my palm. “Yeah, about that,” she mentioned. “Your choices are your own, but you’ve been drinking a lot.”

Seated on a nearby chair, Jossy leaned toward me. “More than usual. Hence this chat.”

Fear gripped my heart, and I squeezed Ivy’s hand. “Is this… an intervention?”

“We’re worried about you, Noa.” Jossy crossed his legs and gestured toward the equipment in the room. “I ordered an IV service to come here because the amount of alcohol in your system is alarming.”

“Okay, Dad,” I sighed, feeling drained.

He ignored me and, without missing a beat, said, “And, no anxiety meds in your system? What’s that about?”

“I value our friendship, Jossy. Truly, I do. But certain aspects of my life are mine to decide,” I replied.

Ivy’s face lit up with a warm smile as her hand enveloped mine. “Of course. As your closest friends, we’re concerned.”

“No,” Jossy barked. “This is because of Uno and Dos. They’re going to get you hurt if you keep listening to them.”

Indignation flickered in my eyes. “Don’t insult me because you’re scared. I’m not a puppet to spirits, and the decision was my own,” I retorted.

“Because they told you not to take them,” he argued.

“Can we take a breath here?” Ivy squeezed my hand as she shot a pointed look at her brother.

A small bruise formed around the needle when I glanced atmy other hand. Jossy untied his ponytail and raked his fingers through his hair. He sat in the chair beside me, a look of desperation on his face.

“I’m sorry, Noa. We don’t want to lose you,” Jossy confessed. A vulnerability I hadn’t seen in him plagued his face.

I angled myself toward him and squeezed his leg. “You don’t have to fight every battle for me, Joss.”

A dry chuckle betrayed him, and his throat bobbed. “How ironic,” he commented.

“Fine,” I conceded, a hint of defeat in my tone, “I’ll ease up.”

His jaw tightened as he contemplated something. “You mean more to us than you can imagine, and we don’t want to find you dead somewhere.”

I couldn’t ignore the fact that I’d become careless with my drinking. Jossy’s gaze bore into me – raw, relentless – a pressure cooker with no release valve. My breath hitched. I didn’t know if mental illness had decided to set up camp in my head or if the dark abyss of depression wanted me to fall into its hole. Either way, I needed to get a grip on both.

A knock on the door interrupted us, and I looked down and gasped. I wasn’t sure how I hadn’t noticed it before, but I realized I was wearing a silky pink tank top and shorts.

“Ivy?” I groaned. “What in the world am I wearing?”

Her eyes brightened. “You’re my best friend, and no matter what, I want you to look good and feel good.”

She always had a way of taking care of me, even when I didn’t want it. I forced a smile even as my body began to reject the outfit.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, adjusting the silky fabric against my skin. “But did it have to be pink?”

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