DRAG - [h.s. au]

60

The only other person that had ever slept in the same bed as Bentley Hale was Dorian Scott, and she was the one that held him as they slept. He was better now, and I'm pretty sure he was only staying with her at night to make sure she was okay. She needed him and she didn't realize it.

I was proud of her for allowing that side of her, that side that craved the control so badly she refused to sleep with anyone else, down a bit. I knew it was hard and I could never understand losing someone you love so much, but I could see it in the way Dorian and Ben reacted.

They were the ones we worried about the most. All the pills in Bentley's place were taken down to mine the first day we got back. Bentley came down to my loft to take her medication to avoid Dorian seeing anything triggering. Any guns and weapons were also in my closet.

The first day back was a nightmare.

Bentley had an episode and I was the only one with her, and I had to knock her out with the same chemical I had used on her before I left for Italy because she had done it again. A bag of sour sweets and a small pistol. Apollo had mentioned being able to talk her down but I tried, and she didn't budge. She brought up the time I knocked her out before leaving for Italy and her frantic self was coming in and out of complete consciousness.

She asked me to do it again, choking on her sobs.

It was admission of defeat. It was her begging to make it stop. She didn't say too many words when it happened, but I knew she wanted it to stop, all of it.

I sobbed as I held the towel to her face, watching as she apathetically stared into my eyes until hers closed. It took all my strength to keep those three words to myself as her eyes shut. She was already spiraling and we couldn't afford any further meltdowns, and Rumer was definitely right.

I needed to wait when she was sensitive like this.

So anything that could hurt Dorian and Ben was kept in my place, along with the words left within.

The silence.

Allergy and I had spoken more. We'd eat dinner at Bentley's in radio silence and once everyone was going to bed we'd go downstairs. She slept on the pull out couch and I slept in my bed. Her and Apollo would switch off every few days so she could keep an eye on Bentley.

She told me to keep calling her Allergy. She wanted some of the shit from before to stick. Just some normalcy. It kind of hurt to say it but I needed it too, the constant bickering had slowed but the light chatter was good for us.

I can tell she loves Bentley like a sister. When Allegra asked me how I was doing, all I could muster was a blank stare.

I was doing better than everyone else, but I didn't even know how to describe how I was feeling, honestly.

I had never hurt so much over a person before, and seeing how badly everyone else was taking this didn't help. Allegra had to beg Bentley to get out of bed to eat, shower, brush her teeth and take her medications downstairs.

She stopped writing. All of her journals, the new ones and the ones that were falling apart, were in a neat stack on the back corner of the kitchen counter of my apartment.

I didn't look and I didn't want to. I liked hearing her tell them to me.

I hadn't heard any other form of emotion out of her unless it was her cries. She would come in and out of apathy and cry for a while before going back to numbness.

I hadn't witnessed depressive episodes like this and it was miserable to watch the person I loved go through it. It was frustrating to see her look at me as if I was a stranger sometimes, and it hurt even more to hear her harrowing sobs from the hallway when I'd bring groceries up.