Page 50 of Where Daisies Breathe
“Whatever, you fucking cunt.” He shoves the girl to the side.
She hits the wall and tries to brace herself but collapses to the floor. I hurry toward her as the guy swings by me and stomps down the stairs. My adrenaline is thumping more fiercely than the base-driven song as I kneel beside the girl and check her pulse. She has one, and she’s semi-conscious as she peers up at me.
“Where am I?” she mutters, her blonde hair looking white against the dirty floor.
For a moment, she looks like Clover, but when I blink, the distortion is gone, and I realize nothing about her face is similar. I’d think she was the woman I followed up here, but she’s way too out of it.
“You’re okay,” I tell her, my gaze traveling to the open door at the end of the hallway.
Every muscle and bone in my body is begging to go in there, to find the woman, to see who she is and why she’s taunting me. But then the drugged girl clutches onto my arm.
“I want to go home,” she whispers. “I’m scared.”
I’m scared, mommy.
Please help me.
Please make him stop.
Please make the pain go away.
Please make him go away.
The only answer I ever received is silence.
So much damn silence.
I dig out my phone and text Ellis.
Me: I need your help.
22
CLOVER
Being drugged and drugging yourself are two very different experiences. Whenever I choose to snort a line or inject my veins with a jolt of euphoria, my brain sings to life as a rush of need surges through me. Realizing I’ve been drugged, though, is different. It’s happened a few times, but this precise moment is worse because I don’t know who did it to me. Before, I’d assumed it was Jason. This time, though, Jason isn’t here.
I’m at Jason’s friend’s party, and we came together, but he had to abruptly leave.
“Stay here until I get back,” he had said to me with a nervous edge in his tone.
“I think I should just go home.” I was tired tonight when he told me to come to this party, too exhausted to play undercover. I just wanted one night off. But Jason got pissed when I said that, and I reminded myself that I needed to do this for Zoey, so I went.
He shook his head as he put on his jacket. “I don’t have time to drive you anywhere.”
“Why not?” I asked, trying to contain my suspiciousness.
“Because I can’t.” He swung past me and headed for the front door. “I’ll be back later.” He walked out, leaving me by myself.
I twisted around, glancing at the men occupying the room. Hardly any women were here, and I didn’t know the few that were. And maybe it could’ve been my anxiety, but I swear more guys were staring at me now that Jason had left.
I thought about walking home. But it was cold outside, and my house was like ten miles away. Plus, it was dark. But was I any safer in this place where Zoey’s killer could very well be hiding?
I stupidly didn’t leave, though, and now I’m stuck here, and I’m pretty sure someone drugged me.
I decide to try to find the bathroom so I can get out of this room. As I stumble through the crowd, making my way toward the hallway, a veil of blurriness starts to overtake my vision. I blink a few times, trying to stay focused.
My mind should be dancing on the brink of being tipsy, but instead, it’s sinking rapidly to the bottom of a muddy lake.
