Page 108 of Forever We Fall

Everyone else is gone, even big fucking Miles. Only the dull light keeps us company. The light and so much blood. His hair is matted and stained. It coats his neck and the sides of his face. The deep red has soaked into his shirt, turning the white thing macabre.

“I can see him.” Arlo quivers with the frail words.

My head jerks around, looking for Phillip. The churn in my veins revs like I injected jet fuel. My nostrils flare, and my teeth show, daring him to return.

There is no one. Anywhere.

“Arlo?” I reach for him but stop short, my fingers aching to comfort him.

“He’s dead, but he’s right there. Over my shoulder. In my brain.” His head shakes. His knuckles go white around clumps of his hair.

I can pummel Phillip, but I don’t know how to fight back his memories or banish his ghost.

“Look at me,” I demand.

Slowly, his head lifts. Lash by lash, his lids part. Enlarged pupils stare up at me behind wet eyelids.

“He isn’t here, but I am.” I swallow, knowing how inadequate I am against his trauma.

Arlo sobs. “I’m sorry.”

My guts twist. I should have told him weeks ago, fifty-something languages ago, that he wasn’t to blame. The truth is I like his groveling, his attention, his unwavering devotion to me. Every note was a sign that he still cared. That he didn’t hate me for what we’d done.

I participated. He didn’t force me.

“No more sorries.” I shake my head. “I don’t blame you.”

“You should,” he says as blood drips down his face.

“Never, Arlo.” I choke, trying my best not to cry. “I’m your guy. I told you that, right? No matter what.”

Arlo’s lips pull into a pitiful smile. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” I smile back. “I’m going to have to touch you to help you up.”

After a few seconds, he finally nods, then immediately grimaces.

“And you’re going to have to go to hospital.”

“No hospital.”

It’s my turn to grimace. “Yes, hospital. I’ll be there with you every step of the way, but you most certainly have a concussion. You need stitches, and you might have a skull fracture.”

“What the hell did he hit me with?” His eyes close as if remembering the blow.

“A mini boulder, the fuck stick.”

He groans. “The headmaster can’t know about the fight.” His torso tilts to the side like a freshly chopped tree.

I slide close and wrap my arms around him. He’s shivering but hot to the touch. I slide his arm over my shoulders. “Here we go.”

Using every muscle I’ve gained over the past two years, I hoist us up and aim slowly for the main office and the emergency call button.

“It wasn’t a fight, Arlo. That was attempted murder.”

When I blink the world into view, everything is different. The blinding lights are out. Only a sliver of light seeps in underneath the door from the hallway. The incessant beeps and chatter have died. Only a whisper of them carries from a distance. The antiseptic smell that burned my nose is gone. In its place is the heady musk of Hota’s skin.

I inhale him and try to focus. My eyes went blurry after impact. A slight fuzz still hangs around the edges of things, like the chair across the room. It’s empty.

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