The Adlay

I Started This When I Didn't Want to Wake Up

He froze mid-bite.
One of the Year Twelve girls said it casually—like it wasn't sacred, like it wasn't shattering.

"Sadie, yeah. Hospital. Blood loss, I think. Bio class accident or whatever."

Ca$h's stomach dropped so fast it made him dizzy.
Blood loss?
Hospital?
Sadie?

The sandwich slipped from his fingers. He was up, moving before anyone said another word.
Didn't wait for Spider.
Didn't stop to breathe.

The corridors blurred.
Every slam of his shoes echoed like a heartbeat.
His hoodie felt too tight.
He hadn't known.
She hadn't told him.

He turned the corner near the back oval—and stopped.

There she was.
Spider knelt in front of her, unwrapping an old bandage, joking about the uneven edges. Sadie giggled softly, eyes crinkling in that way they hadn't for weeks.

Even pale and bruised, she looked like sunlight in winter.

Ca$h stared.
Chest tight.
Throat blocked.

She didn't leave.

She was here.
She was laughing.

He hadn't cried in school since Year Seven, but the sting behind his eyes hit fast.
Sadie glanced up, caught him in the doorway.

Her smile softened.
She didn't speak.

She just opened her arms—bandaged and all.

And Ca$h walked straight into them.

Ca$h didn't let go for a long time.
Sadie's arms wrapped around him without hesitation, even though Spider muttered something about bandage tension. Her laugh had vanished, replaced by soft hums meant to calm him. He was shaking. Full-body trembling like he'd run through a thunderstorm, not school hallways.

They didn't speak until Spider stepped back, gave Sadie a look like tell him, or I will, then wandered off toward Missy.

Ca$h still held her like the world was flickering.

"Hospital?" he finally croaked, voice low and hoarse. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Sadie blinked. Her fingers tightened briefly against the back of his hoodie.

"Because you'd think it was your fault."

Ca$h pulled away just enough to see her face. There was no accusation there. Just truth.

"I left you that night," he whispered. "I didn't answer. I didn't even look."

Sadie shook her head gently. "No. You panicked. I saw it. I chose not to make it worse."

He went quiet. Looked down at her bandages.

"You did make it worse," he said, voice cracking, "but not how you think. You didn't come that night, and I thought you'd finally left. That broke me."

Sadie brushed his cheek with her thumb. "But I didn't."

Ca$h nodded, chest tightening. "I know. Now I know."

They sat on the bench, quiet between them like cotton. The laughter from the courtyard felt distant, almost fictional.

"I'm scared," he said.

Sadie didn't answer. She just laced her fingers into his, careful of the gauze, and held on

He asked when the house was quiet again.