Page 65 of Starve
“Not Fern,”she growls, displaying teeth just as sharp as his. She’s trembling, her eyes darting, and she shakes her head as she glares at him.
“Hattie…” Tyler’s voice is placating. When he reaches up with one hand, she shoves him back down with a growl and a click of her teeth, though she doesn’t seem interested in hurting him. “You’re being ridiculous. She’s not your friend!” He glares at me, dark eyes full of hate, which helps me get the nerve to shove to my feet, though my legs still shake.
The redhead doesn’t answer. She looks at me, her eyes wide. “Go,” she urges.“Goaway, Fern.” When Tyler tries to shove heroff of him again, she slams him back to the ground, straddling him more completely to keep him pinned under her.
“T-thank you—” Moro’s whimper cuts me off and I whirl around, dropping to my knees once more beside my dog. “Oh, God…” Her neck is bloody, but her eyes are open, though they shine with pain. “Oh, Moro, you’re alive. Okay. I’ve got you, pretty girl. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” Absolutely not caring that I’m probably going to regret carrying the sixty-pound dog later, I gather her up against me, having to all but toss her over my shoulder in order to stagger back to my car with her.
I don’t look back as I lay her in the back seat, no matter that I can hear Tyler’s snarls of protest and the not-so-quiet conversation as he demands for Hattie to let him go. All I can do is focus on not crying, and silently beg Moro not to die as I get in the driver’s seat and pull out of the parking lot to find the nearest emergency vet clinic. Trying to ignore how my face and shirt are stained with my dog’s blood while she whines softly in the backseat.
Chapter 26
For a moment,once I’m parked in my driveway and the only sound is the drizzle of rain outside, I just…sit.
I’m exhausted, not only from what happened at the park and with Dr. Radley, but also from being at the animal hospital for five hours while Moro had scans, stitches, and enough pain meds for her to be drowsing in the back seat instead of whimpering like she was on the way there.
Warm wetness on my cheeks surprises me, and I reach up to wipe at the tears trailing down my face. “I’m sorry, Moro,” I breathe quietly, though she doesn’t do more than tilt her head a little on the seat in acknowledgment of my words. She’d been better than I could’ve ever expected her to be, when she was obviously in so much pain until they gave her an injection of something they promised would make her more comfortable.
Instead of getting out of the car, I lean forward, my forehead pressed to the steering wheel as I listen to the rain. Suddenly, the last few weeks seem darker, less innocuous. Less…fun.Maybe I’d been treating this like a game too, or at least not giving it the amount of caution that it deserved.
All I can wonder as I sit there, after having nearly lost my dog, is how could I have just accepted all of this so easily afterfinding out what Cairo is? More than that, after learning about what exists in the Cascade Mountains.
But what else am I supposed to do?
I can feel myself spiraling as I close my eyes, and I know all the grounding breaths in the world aren’t enough to get me where I need to be. There’s nothing I can do but let my mind run away with me, and allow the horrors of Bluebone Ridge, of Tyler, ofCairoto flood my brain.
Is it only luck that I’m still here?
Worse still is that in some ways I feel like Dr. Radley was right. I don’t take this seriously enough, and I’m not willing to see what Cairo is, or what he wants. Tyler certainly hadn’t denied anything when I brought it up to him.
Maybe I’m just an idiot.
It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had that thought, and my mom certainly has said as much to me on more than one occasion by remarking on my ‘lack of common sense’ or ‘bad life skills.’ If everyone else is saying it, and my brain and body are convinced of it, is it true?
My heart sinks like a stone in my chest, and nausea sits heavy in my stomach, insidious and bloating instead of the sharp, clawing feelings I’ve had before. This kind of dread is oppressive in its own way, and I’m not sure I can make myself get out of the car, when no part of me feels capable of doing more than this.
I can’t move.
I can barelybreathe.
I need?—
The driver’s door opens suddenly, and I turn my head to see Cairo, soaked from the rain and staring down at me. He just looks at me, though Moro’s soft whine of greeting and the thump of her tail get his attention quickly. I can see the hesitation and the confusion on his face before he lets out a breath of his own and leans in to press his lips to my cheek in a surprisinglyaffectionate kiss. “I’ll take care of you, little bird,” he murmurs, without asking what’s wrong. He doesn’t even hesitate in opening the back door, and Moro lets him pick her up with only a weak whimper of protest.
“Just…be careful with her, okay?” I say in a too-small whisper that barely makes it past my lips. “Her neck and h-her ribs?—”
“I’ve got her,” Cairo promises me, striding through the rain after he closes the door to the back seat. My door remains open, and the rain mists in enough to slowly re-soak my hair and clothes, leaving me shivering even though I can’t find the strength to do anything to stop it. My eyes drift closed again, and I listen to my breathing that I can barely hear amidst the rain.
As usual, I don’t hear Cairo approach. Instead, I only realize he’s beside me when the rain stops hitting the side of my face and my hand that’s resting on the steering wheel. Opening one eye, I look up at him dully. “I’m coming.”
“I know.” But he leans down and, with about as much effort as he used to pick up Moro from the back seat, he pulls me into his arms until I’m cradled against his chest. His shirt is just as wet as mine, and he closes my door with his hip before turning and trudging toward my front door.
“I can walk.”
“I know,” he repeats calmly. There’s no judgment in his tone. No disbelief. Just acceptance, and maybe a touch of relief. My fingers curl in his wet shirt, and even though part of me wants to wiggle free and prove that I’m fine, I don’t. I let him carry me up the stairs to my front porch, cracked and faded and a little questionable, before he easily pushes open the door and then closes it behind him once we’re in the living room. But even then, he doesn’t put me down. Cairo carries me to the bedroom and past it, setting me down on the edge of the counter.
“You’re freezing.” Gently, he reaches up and pushes my wet hair back behind my ears to examine my face. “Little bird…” But Cairo trails off, like he’s not quite sure what to say.
“I need to talk to you.”
