“Eli,” I said, “it’s okay.”
And it was. Or it would be.
But Eli, tears streaming down his face, balled his hands into fists.
“Seamus,” he said. “This is Seamus’s fault.”
“What?” Suddenly, I was snapped out of my own head and into reality. “No!” I exclaimed. “It’s not him.”
“It is him! He was driving, Chels, he did this! I’m going to fucking kill him.”
“Eli!” I shouted, grabbing at his shirt. But the movements only made my face scream with pain. The fabric slipped from my fingers and I gripped the doorframe for balance, waiting for the pain to pass.
But when I turned back, Eli was gone.