Page 145 of Runaways

But she's my final girl. I wouldn't expect anything less from her. It's kind of nice, really. I can say goodbye to her in a nice way, and even if she doesn't know it happened, I will. And then our last moment together won't be me telling her I don't love her and making her cry.

I'd better do it fast, though…before Silas runs in here freaking the fuck out and wakes her up, and then I have to explain myself.

I reach over and run my fingers through her hair.

"It's not that I don't love you," I tell her. "Not really, anyway. It's just that I can't, okay? Because sometimes, I love you so much that it crushes me, and sometimes, it hurts to look at you, and it fucking breaks me. Sometimes, I think of you, and I can't even look at myself in the mirror; it's too much for one person. So…Silas says that you're going to think that I hate you every day for the rest of your life. And I guess I'm okay with that. It'll probably be easier to move on from someone who hates you. It'll be easier to sit in prison thinking that someone who hates you put you there than it would be to sit there confused, wondering why someone who loves you would do this. But I'll never hate you. You'll always be a part of me, and there will never be anyone else—I can promise you that. And that will have to be enough."

I lean over to kiss her cheek, but before I do, I notice an email address in Silas's handwriting written on her forearm.

I sigh. Fucking Silas.

I guess we're even—I went behind his back, he went behind mine. Still, this isn't going to fly. It's a string of numbers and letters, so it's unlikely she memorized it. I just need to find a way to smudge it a little before I go.

Conveniently, there's a permanent black marker on the nightstand beside a bottle of vodka.

I lean over her to grab it slowly, careful not to wake her. And then I see something else written on her other arm in big, bold caps.

MY NAME IS NOAH BARLOWE.

Why would she…

"Noah? Noah, wake up!"

I place a hand on her shoulder and shake her a little, but it doesn't wake her, so I roll her from her side onto her back. Vomit runs down her chin and neck; it's on the pillow where she was lying.

The pills. Silas said she takes a lot of pills.

No.

She's pale—really pale—and she starts to choke a little. But if she's choking, she's still breathing, right?

I roll her onto her stomach over my knees and jam my fingers into the back of her throat. I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing, but I can't call the police, and I can't let her die. She gags on my fingers, but I don't stop—not until she vomits all over my hand, down my leg, and onto the floor.

"Noah?" I pound on her back until she stops choking. "Noah, wake up!"

But she doesn't move. She doesn't make a sound. My eyes fill with tears.

"Okay…it's okay, Noah," I say aloud, even though I know she can't really hear me. "You're going to be fine."

I pick her up, carry her to the bathroom, and turn on the shower. Then I climb into the tub and under the cold water, fully clothed with Noah in my arms. "It's okay." I choke on thewords, tears leaking from my eyes as I smooth wet hair away from her face. "I've got you. You're going to be okay."

I use my finger to find her pulse on her neck and count her heartbeat aloud. I don't know much about that, either, but I know it's slow and it's still there. I kiss the top of her head, close my eyes, and keep counting through the sobs. "Nine…ten…eleven…twelve…"

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Silas stands over me when I open my eyes. "What the fuck did you do to her!?"

"I didn't do anything!" I cry.

But that's not necessarily true, is it? I did this…again.

"Tell me what the fuck happened! Now!"

"I don't know. I think she took some pills. I didn't mean to."

He kneels beside the tub and places one hand over her heart and the other just under her nose. "She's not dead…yet. Get away from her."

"I don't want to."

"Now!" he shouts, turning off the water. "Get away from her!"

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