Page 111 of Crossing Lines

I blink. “It’s only been a minute.”

He gives me a long look. “It’s been five.”

A chill rushes up my spine.

Without speaking, I rise to my feet. Nate follows, tense and alert behind me. The hallway feels longer than it should, like the air has thickened somehow.

I knock on the door. Lightly at first.

“Mom?”

Silence.

A second knock, harder. “Mom, are youokay?”

Nothing.

“Step back,” Nate demands. He moves past me and slams his heel into the door with a sharp, brutal crack. The wood splinters and the door swings inward.

The world slows.

She’s collapsed on the tile. Slumped against the bathtub. Her limbs tangled and loose.

A bottle of pills clutched in her hand like a weapon. Her eyes are half-lidded, and her lips are blue.

Time stutters.

I can’t process what I’m looking at.

No.

No, no, no.

This isn’t?—

We were just?—

She said?—

Nate drops to his knees, and checks her pulse. His jaw tightens. “Fuck.” He’s already dialing 911.

I can’t move. I’m frozen just inside the doorway, staring at her limp body, still trying to fit the pieces together. Like maybe if I just focus hard enough, it’ll rearrange into something that makes sense.

But it doesn’t.

It won’t.

Because she overdosed. On purpose.

Even though she said she wanted help.

Even though she said she wanted to change.

Even though she said she was sorry.

A dry sob tears up through my throat. I stumblebackward into the hallway wall, my hands trembling, my stomach lurching. I don’t understand what’s happening, but it can’t be real. Itcan’t. It must be a mistake. She wouldn’t do this. Not now, not when she’s finally ready to change.

Right?

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