Eight Boys and a Walker girl

29 | Dead

29 | Dead

Mum is allowed to stay overnight at the hospital. I'm not, nomatter how hard I beg.

"You need to go home. You've had enough of hospitals for one day," Mum tells me firmly- but I see the anxiety in her eyes. Shame washes over me as I remember the true reason she wants me to go home. My panic attack. No amount of lying could ever convince Mum that it was nothing, and though I haven't actually spoken about what happened in Jamie's room with her, I know she'll want to, soon enough. I'm dreading it. I can still taste bile at the back of my throat from the waves of panic I felt crash over me in room 153.

Mum wants me to travel in the Lacey car, but Harry puts his foot down, insisting that his car is bigger- "And it has air conditioning, incase she...feels..." No one wants to say the words 'panic attack', but we all know what he's talking about. I don't even care- I'm just glad to be surrounded by the boys, with their jokes and laughter and comforting normality. Mr and Mrs Lacey just keep glancing back at me in concern as we head out into the car-park, and I'm not sure I would've been able to survive that for the whole drive back to the cottage.

Harry spends ages fussing around me, tucking a blanket around my curled-up body, turning the air-conditioning up high, despite me telling him over and over again that I'm fine, there's no need to worry, just drive. I guess he knows what he's doing, though, what with Caleb and his anxiety. I feel better almost instantly, and as Harry starts up the engine and begins the drive home, Bailey clambers over the seats to curl up beside me, sharing my seat-belt.

"Harry said you had a Caleb-attack," he mumbles, thumb in his mouth, his eyes so wide and scared that I just have to smile and hug him to me. "Are you going to be okay? Because sometimes Caleb isn't. Lots of the time-"

"I'm going to be fine," I assure him, cutting off his stream of talk about anxiety. Caleb glances over at me from where he's arm-wrestling Jodi, and gives me a sympathetic smile. He's the only one who could really understand. I smile back, and warmth fills me that isn't entirely from the blanket.

I can tell that throughout the whole drive, the boys are desperate to ask me about my brother- and I only have myself to blame. It's only now, looking back, that I realise that they never knew the whole story. Everything I ever said about Jamie only led them to believe he was dead. And I guess it's fair that I explain things- because they have the right to know. I just- I can't. Not now.

But I will. I have to.

I squeeze my eyes shut as Harry turns on the radio, 'Location' by Khalid floating out into the car, washing over my head. I'm not asleep, but the boys seem to assume that I am, because I can make out the sound of Harry's voice telling Ty to fit the blanket around me more comfortably, and telling Bailey to give me space. I would smile, if I had the strength, but right now, all I want to do is let go and forget all that is tugging at my mind.

It must have been hours later, though it feels like barely minutes, the I hear the sound of car-doors opening, and realise I can't hear the sound of city traffic anymore- we're back at the cottage. I hear the muted sound of voices all around me, then arms reaching for me, sliding underneath me to lift me up. I'm lifted from my seat, and then there's the cool night air on my face, and I can smell axe cologne and gatorade that speaks of Harry, and I'm being jogged up and down as he carries me up the drive and through the front door, and then everything smells familiar. Of wood and charcoal, and earth.

"Evvie...Ev, I'm all for carrying you up these stairs to your room if you're not up to it, but you know you're heavy as fuck?"

My eyes flutter open, and I find myself blinking up blearily into Harry's slightly smirking face. I reach out and slap his arm feebly, though my fatigue means it can't have had any serious impact. "That's rude. Don't you know you should never call a girl heavy?"