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I woke up in the back of a car. I was safe. The slight stench inside the car helped me recognize it immediately as Matt's car. Then I looked up and saw his dirty blonde hair resting on the driver's seat head post.

Why was I laying in his back seat?

My head pounded. It felt like I'd woken up with the worst hangover of my life. The air smelled of old McDonald's bags and moldy Starbucks drinks.

Thankfully, Matt's car was parked and I sat up slowly.

Matt turned around in his seat and I noticed his blue eyes looked at me differently. Did he know about me? Had he figured out what I was capable of? I leaned forward feeling nauseous and I cradled my head in my hands.

"Where's Harry?" I asked my quiet roommate with my own surprisingly hoarse voice and sore throat.

Matt flexed his jaw a few times and pulled out his cell phone. After dialing my boyfriend's number, Matt started talking to Harry with a low voice.

"She woke up. Where do you want me to meet you?" Matt struggled to not peek at me in the rear view mirror.

"21st and Main," I heard Harry's accent on the other end. "Is she ok?"

My heart swelled, but I also felt like throwing up. Like physically, I started gagging and dry heaving. What had I done to myself?

"She's pale," Matt replied and then turned to look at me clutching my stomach. "How are you feeling?"

"Sick. Tired," I mumbled and closed my eyes.

"She's hungry," Harry must have heard me on the phone.

I locked eyes with Matt's and his fear and sorrow ran through my tired body. A rush of nausea overcame me again. 

"I'm going back to sleep. I don't feel good," I felt my eyes water and I curled into a ball in the backseat of his car. "Please don't drive anywhere. I'll get sick."

"Mia..." Matt sighed feeling frustrated. I closed my eyes and forced myself to relax and fall asleep. It didn't take long, but once I was asleep, I was out cold.

Somehow I woke up in another place, but this time it was a room I also didn't recognize. I turned over in the comfy bed and saw brown strands of hair falling down the back of Harry's head on a crisp, white pillow.

I still felt like shit, but seeing him reminded me that I would be ok and that we could get through this day and age. We'd get through it together somehow. We'd watch out for each other.

"Harry," I reached over to wake him up. He turned his head over to look at me and blinked a few times before squinting at me and then sighing.

His brows creased in and he reached his palm out to my face caressing the edge of my jaw. "You ok?"

I blinked a few times too and then narrowed my eyes at him. "I don't know."

It was as honest as I could get. I had no idea what happened to me. Why was I so sick and why was I so sleepy?

"What happened to Kevin?" I asked him softly and his face immediately hardened. "And Matt? Is Matt ok?"

The touch of his hand dropped from my face and he groaned sitting up in the bed. The skin of his back was a blank canvas empty of tattoos, but the mashup and collaged black ink ones covered his arm closest to me. I reached my hand out and started tracing one — a skull.

"Kevin killed himself," Harry muttered and stood from the bed leaving me under the comforter alone.

Shocked, I sat up and immediately clutched at my head. It pounded like I needed water, but it was going to have to wait. I needed to know what happened at my apartment. I could only remember bits and pieces.

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