Page 60 of Wrath

His torso, straddled by my trembling legs, gives a final jerk, then he goes so limp he’s gotta be dead.

“Miller!Please…” I grip his face, searching for some sign of life. Something in my chest cracks as I notice there’s a line of blood right at the corner of his lip. His eyelids, which were trembling just a second ago—like in a dream—have gone completely still now, cracked half open.

“Mills!” I lay his head down and shake his shoulders, holding my breath as I wait for him to wake up.But he doesn’t.I shake him again. “MILLER? Wake up!”

My brain starts to haze out as an awful, tight pain grips just under my throat. “Fucking shit, fuck! SHIT!” I’m up on my feet, jerking the shower curtain, half falling out of the tub. I throw my arm across the countertop, sending everything flying. I hear a crash a half second before I realizeI’m throwing things. I can’t stop. Something shatters—aftershave—and I’m crouching down on my knees, one palm pressed against the bathroom floor. Everything’s blurring together.

I start to breathe too fast—the smell isoverwhelming. I think:I might pass out, but I remember Miller’s in the shower. I don’t want him in there alone.

I stand, dizzy as fuck, and pull the shower curtain open, blink down at him through my blurry eyes, and that’s when I hear rasping. His chest’s moving.

He’s breathing!It sounds wet and rough, but—

Fuck!

Miller coughs and then starts gagging. I’m weak with relief as I climb back into the tub and kneel over him.

Focus, Ezra. Fucking focus. It’s not Alton.

I shift my weight so some of the shower water runs down my arm. Then I cup my shaking hand and use the little stream to rinse his shoulder and his throat. I’m washing his cheek, still struggling to get deep breaths, when his eyelids slit open.

“Ez?” His lips don’t even move. The sound comes from in between his teeth. His eyes open more, and they look dazed and bloodshot.

Holy shit, I can’t believe this is real…

“Hey there, Millsy.” I cup his cheek with my hand, which still trembles.

He looks around the shower, his face pale and blank.

“Hey, man,” I rasp. “Do you remember getting in here?”

His tongue laps at his lower lip, and that’s when his face crumples. “Ow.” He holds his mouth, and a little line of dark blood drips between his fingers.

“Jesus, did you bite your tongue?”

His hand covers his face, and he starts breathing louder. Is he choking? I realize he’s crying, and it fucking breaks me.

“Oh, fuck. Miller. It’s okay.” I lean down to try to hug him, but I can’t get my arms around him from this angle. I put a hand on his forehead. “It’s okay. I’m gonna help you get up, okay? We’ll stand up and wash off. Then I’ll get you in bed. You’ll feel better.”

I’m so full of shit. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I look down at Miller, holding his face, breathing all unsteady, and I feel like I might throw up. But he’s nodding.

“Okay, Millsy. You think you can hold your head up?” I lift him slow and careful, making sure one of my hands that goes behind his back is cupped around the base of his head. Turns out he can hold his head up on his own, but he looks dazed as I get him sitting.

He holds his mouth.

“Is it a lot of blood? Just spit it out. It’ll go down the drain.”

His eyes squeeze shut. He covers his face with both hands, hunches his shoulders like he’s cold or something.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” My voice is a soft rasp.

He wipes at his chin. He’s wincing.

“You have seizures, Miller? Have you ever had a seizure before?”

His eyes find mine, almost like he’s just realizing I’m here. He looks so damn tired.

“Hey.” I can’t keep myself from brushing his damp hair up off his forehead. “You know where we are?”

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