Falling in the Dark | ✓

9 | Flames

"Hush, hush, quiet, quiet."

I'm startled awake when the front door is thrown open and Vera stumbles into the room. She shuts the door behind her with a bang that sounds like the crack of a gun. Rubbing my tired eyes, I sit up in my bed. I can barely distinguish Vera's outline from the darkness.

"Hush, hush!" she shushes herself, giggling deliriously. She is anything but quiet as she bumps into the closet, all flailing, disoriented limbs.

I climb off my bed and come to a stand, leaning on the desk for support. Sharp pain shoots up and down my legs, and I let out a soft groan.

"Where have you been?" I call as I walk over to her, my voice sleep-addled and rough.

Up close, the smell of roses and smoke is so strong that my eyes almost start to tear up. It clings to her pale skin, her damp hair, her disheveled clothes.

"Oh no, you woke up!" she drawls, still chuckling. "I can't see you."

Just as I open my mouth to tell her I'm right in front of her, a blinding light hits me in my gray irises. Cursing aloud, I shut my eyes tight and push her hand away. Her skin is ice cold.

"Whoa!" Vera exclaims. She shines the flashlight of her phone back onto my face. "Your eyes are like smoke."

She turns the light to her own face, but the beam keeps dancing in her unsteady hands. "And my hair is like flames!"

Her light brown eyes are peeking out from behind hooded eyelids, surrounded by veiny red tendrils.

"Vera, how high are you?" I ask, horrified at the sight of her bloodshot eyes.

Another high-pitched peal of laughter. "Yes. I'm starving."

"Oh god," I sigh, leading her towards her unmade bed before groping in the dark for the light switch. Vera mutters something about the morning coming too soon when two bulbs illuminate the room. I grab a pair of sweatpants and an old One Direction t-shirt from the closet.

"Change into this," I tell her, pressing the clothes into her hands.

I pick up my half-empty bottle of water and rummage around the bottom of my backpack for the pack of Skittles I know is in there. When I turn to Vera, I find her holding up the white t-shirt upside down, staring at it in utter bewilderment.

"It's impossible," she declares, shaking her head.

"Here, let me help."

I take off her cream coat and frumpy red dress, its thin straps slipping off her shoulders. She's wearing somebody else's old black sneakers; they're three sizes too big. She shivers a little and offers absolutely no cooperation - lost in her dream world, mumbling about rainbows as she chews the candy - when I try to push her limbs through the sweatpants and t-shirt. I pick up one of the strands of her hair between my fingers and ask her why it's wet. Her incoherent answer makes no sense. I only manage to pick up the words 'blue diamonds', 'ice' and 'grass'.

I walk towards my bed and sink down on the soft mattress heavily. I raise my eyes to Vera, her wild hair, her bloodshot eyes, her vacant expression. There is no point in asking her about that Friday night now. She's too out of it. More than she has ever been before. It terrifies me to see her this way.

Almost as if she read my mind, she says, "Fuck, I'm so stoned." She falls back on her big white pillow and stares at the ceiling.

With another resigned sigh, I turn towards the wall, pull the covers over my head and attempt to fall asleep with the lights on.

❅

"Damn it, Vera. Wake up!"

I've been trying to shake Vera awake for the past five minutes, but she doesn't even stir. She's curled up on her side into a ball, sleeping contentedly. I stare at my watch. 8:41 AM. Furrowing my eyebrows, I give her back a rough shove that's sure to force her out of her slumber.