Chapter Fifteen

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Because we knew Macy wouldn't come down, Mom asked me to bring her dinner to bed. Uncle Roger stayed to eat with us and then went home after. Macy never came out of her room the whole night. She did, however, use the bathroom. I do know that for sure because our rooms are connected by a bathroom. I was able to hear her throwing up, which must mean that the detoxification process has started. I wanted to go in there, but I didn't want to intrude if she didn't want me to.

It's one in the morning, and I'm lying in bed in a silk satin pink pajama top and matching panties. I stare at the ceiling, constantly worrying about Macy. Thinking back on the chat in the office, I wondered what they meant when they said she had been through a traumatic event that set this wheel in motion. How could a 17-year-old get her hands on so many drugs, and why would she want to? What drove her and Daniel to become addicted.

I wanted to just barge in there and demand she tell me what the hell happened after our friendship ended. But it wasn't my place. I just wish she would have come to me when shit hit the ceiling in her life. I don't blame her though because I know it's partially my fault, I didn't reach out. I should have fought harder to keep her as a friend or to prevent the football team from bullying her. I turn over to look out the window and see the full moon beaming through the glass. Macy's face pops into my head, and I smile at the million freckles on her face and her full lips.

My cheeks flush as I recall the kiss we had. I shouldn't have said I would have never done it because, to be honest, that was a lie. I enjoyed kissing her and would do it again in a heartbeat. Her soft lips on mine caused my stomach to do cartwheels. I look out at the night sky, smiling to myself at my thoughts when a piercing scream erupts from the other room. I sit up, wondering if maybe I was just hearing things. But just as quickly as it vanished, the screaming returned. I rushed out of bed to see what was going on.

After walking through the bathroom, I open the door to the other bedroom. When I peek in, I find Macy tossing and turning in her bed. As she kicks and yells, I rush to her side to wake her up. I rest my hand on her forehead, while sweat flows down her brow, and notice she's burning up. I vigorously shake her in an attempt to wake her out of her nightmare, but she does not budge. I'm relieved my brother and sister aren't here. I don't want them to see her like this. It would frighten them. Hell, it terrifies me. But I can't think about that right now. My parents' room is upstairs on the opposite end of the house, so they can't hear her. The only way to reach them is for me to call on my phone. Dad installed panic buttons in every room courtesy of her work with uncle Roger, but I'm confident I can handle this. At least, I think I can.

"Mom, no, what are you doing! Please, Mom! Please," I hear her cry. As she begins to hyperventilate and sob in her sleep, it becomes clear that I have to wake her up from this intense nightmare. I rush to the bathroom and turn on the showerhead. After pulling back the blankets, I lift her up and carry her to the bathroom. Stepping under the showerhead while wearing all of our clothes, I set her down in the tub and pulled her in between my legs.

The sudden touch of ice-cold water jolts her awake, and she gasps from the sensation. "What the hell Adelaide?"

"You had a panic attack in your sleep Mays. I had to." She reaches to turn the water off and leans back into me, trying to steady her frantic breath.

"Thank you," she whispers.

"Of course." We sit there in silence for a minute until her breathing becomes normal. She starts to get up, and my hands subconsciously move to her hips to help her.

Her eyes rolled at me. "You find any reason to touch me, don't you?" She snatches a towel off the rack and walks back into her room.

"Sorry." She doesn't accept my apology, and instead, I stand there admiring her while she dries her long wavy hair. My eyes linger on her backside, memorizing every dip and curve as her wet clothes stick to her body. A throat is cleared, pulling me out of my trance.

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