Page 61 of Believing Bailey (Granton University 2)

I nodded, feeling defeated and said, “Okay.”

She nodded, smiling. “Okay. I’ll be right back with some breakfast and maybe enough food to last you through the day.

I gave a humorless laugh. “Same concept, but it still beats being in jail, I guess.”

Her face fell. “You’re not…” Running her fingers gently over my hair, she said, “If you go out, could you at least leave me a note, letting me know?”

“I won’t go out,” I promised her.

Her hand made one last sweep over my head, and then she was leaving to bring me back some food. She brought me plenty. I could only shake my head and wonder how long she planned on being gone. But then she said she’d be back by four and she really was gone.

About half an hour later, I was sure I was alone in the apartment. But I stayed in Bailey’s room and ate an orange and two granola bars before downing a bottle of water.

She had a small television in here, so I watched a morning show, then a noon show, and finally an afternoon show, before growing drowsy and taking a small nap, but I woke up feeling worse than before. I hated doing nothing all day; it always left me drained and groggier than ever. Besides, I think it’d been just enough days after being beaten for me to reach the zenith of soreness. Every muscle throbbed.

I crawled out of bed and shuffled toward the bathroom. But when I opened Bailey’s medicine cabinet, there wasn’t any kind of pain reliever inside. A shiver wracked my body. I pressed my hand to my forehead and wondered if I had a fever. The sore, shaky muscles and shivering felt like the stirrings of a cold.

Rubbing my hands up and down my arms, I returned to Bailey’s room but didn’t find any kind of pill bottles on her dresser, so I crept to the bedroom door and slowly poked my head into the hall. No one seeme

d to be home yet, thought it was getting to be that time. I really felt shitty, so I took the chance and stepped from her room.

I found another bathroom within ten seconds and then some ibuprofen fifteen seconds after that. But as I was unscrewing the lid, I saw a whole row of prescription bottles lining the top shelf. I popped two pills into my mouth, swallowing them dry, before reaching up to examine one of the bottles.

They were written out for a Jonah Abbott and seemed to be some powerful, highly-addictive pain medicine. I pulled down a few more bottles, whistling lowly under my breath. This Jonah dude must’ve gotten hurt pretty bad to need all this shit. It’d been prescribed to him back in February.

February. That had been back when the gunman had taken out some students on campus. I hadn’t known anyone who’d been killed or even injured in the massacre, but I wondered if this Jonah guy had been involved in all that.

He’d barely used half the contents from each bottle, and I wondered what it’d be like if a person just took them, all of them, swallowing them down two at a time. Would the pain would just disappear? Would they drift off peacefully, completely unaware of how fatally they’d just overdosed?

For a minute, I stared at the bottles, imagining it. It could all be over, just like that. The misery and uncertainty and loss. No one would even miss me. Hell, they’d probably be relieved I was gone so I could stop bothering them. I’m sure Bailey could do without me leeching off her. My parents would be free of me causing them any more trouble. And I could stop feeling so betrayed and abandoned and hated. I could end all this right now. Right here.

I put my palm against the cap of one bottle as if to unscrew it.

“Oh my God, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” a high voice shrieked.

I jumped so hard, I dropped the bottle and guiltily darted my gaze to Bailey who was standing frozen in the bathroom door and gaping at me in pale, frozen horror.

Chapter 21

BAILEY

I couldn’t believe my eyes. I just…I couldn’t.

Beckett was standing there, surrounded by bottles of prescription pills and staring at them with longing and temptation.

“Oh my God, ohmigod!” I shrieked, hurrying to him and snagging the bottle he hadn’t dropped from his hand. “How many have you taken?”

I needed to get him to the hospital. Right now. They’d have to pump his stomach, get every single pill out. Oh my God, but what if I was too late? What if—

“None,” he said, shaking his head in instant denial. “I didn’t take any. I mean, I took two ibuprofens, but that was it. I was in pain. I just wanted…” He shook his head some more.

But he looked so guilty and caught-in-the-act. I didn’t think I could believe him. I rattled the prescription bottle in his face. “Then why did you pull all these down?”

“I…” He looked at the bottle, his expression filled with even more mortification and guilt.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, terrified to my core. Helping him through a hard time was one thing, but going on suicide watch for him was quite another.

When he looked at me, though, he could only shake his head. “I was just looking at them. Curious,” he tried to explain. “I wasn’t going to take them. I swear, I didn’t take any.”

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