Falling in the Dark | ✓

15 | Snow

"For asking about the code," he says, his concentration returning to the road. "Nobody else does."

My heart melts a little along with the snowflake resting in the middle of my palm.

"Nobody except Vera, you mean?" I murmur, my voice low and hopeful.

He lets out a sad sigh. "Including Vera. I told her many times that I'm working on a website, but I guess she isn't interested enough to ask about it."

I turn my face away and focus on rolling the window closed. I feel like I've come out as the winner in an unspoken contest between me and Vera. I try to fight the uncomfortable feeling by looking for an excuse to defend my best friend.

"Anyway!" I say a little too brightly in an attempt to steer the conversation away from Vera. "I don't know how you write thousands of lines of code like that. I could never do it."

"I bet it's easier than your business course," he says with a modest shrug. "What are your subjects?"

"Well, there's finance, marketing, economics, human re—"

I stop short when Liam momentarily drops his head and pretends to snore as though in deep sleep. With a laugh, I reach out to punch his arm. He gives me a teasing grin before turning back to the road.

The snowfall remains light and slow, but I start to worry that it won't stay that way as we pull up in front of a compact two-story home in a small neighborhood. Most of the houses are already lit up with strings of multi-colored Christmas lights.

Liam cuts the engine and we climb out of the car together. Snowflakes land on our beanies and coats us as we walk up to the front porch. The walls of the house are painted a dull cream with blue trim, all the windows shut and curtains drawn.

"Is she even here?" I ask, trying to find any signs of life in the house.

"I hope so," Liam says, reaching out to ring the doorbell.

Nobody answers the door. Liam has to ring the bell five times before the door is thrown open. A guy wearing a dark purple bathrobe looks at us with bleary, hooded eyes. He leans against the doorframe for support and suddenly notices the snowfall.

"Holy shit," he whispers, squinting at the air behind us. "It's raining Tic Tacs."

"Um." I turn to Liam and he rolls his eyes. "Is Vera here?"

Instead of answering my question, the guy in the robe just turns around and walks into the house, muttering to himself unintelligibly. He leaves the door open behind him. Liam steps in and I follow. The air inside the house is not much warmer than the stinging chill of the outdoors. None of the lights in the hallway are on; Liam and I have to use the flashlight on our phones to follow the guy groping and stumbling in the dark. The sound of hushed conversation and high-pitched giggles grows louder as we follow him into a fairly crowded living room, lit only by a single table lamp.

Once my eyes adjust to the dim light, they land on a long glass-topped table in the center flanked by black couches, laden with lighters, small plastic pouches and pills of various colors. I turn away and scan the faces of the people sprawled across the seats. I find Vera slumped over one end of the couch, her face and arms coated in sweat despite being dressed in nothing but a pink camisole and jeans. Her shoulders are shaking; she appears to be laughing at something the girl next to her said.

"Vera!" I rush over to her. "Are you okay?"

Strands of her red hair are matted to her forehead. Her skin feels warm to the touch. She opens her eyes and looks up at me, her mouth twisted in a gruesome smile.