My mother called me Sophie, but it was short for my entire name. Sophia Elizabeth Gray. My middle name was her first name and she was proud of it, so she called me Sophie. "Like Soph E.," she once explained.
During that conversation, she was washing my hair, and the water had been too soapy. It burned my eyes and tasted like punishment. I squirmed when I told her, but she kept talking like she couldn't hear me. She scrubbed my scalp too hard. It hurt, and the only thing that stopped her was my dad. He burst into the bathroom and yelled until she let go of me. That's when I slipped back, hit my head, and water took over the memory.
Now, it was everywhere. Between my toes, wrapped around my arms, clutching my fingers and twisting my hair. Grasping my dress, the river ripped the fabric around my legs. The cold rush of it all spun me around. The icy water burned the way alcohol did when it was used to clean an injury. After my fall in the tub, my father had to use alcohol to clean my scalp. I still had a bumpy scar. Now, I couldn't feel it. I couldn't feel much at all.
I clenched my teeth and tried to pry my eyes open, but my mouth opened instead. I gulped on river water. My throat tightened, my body screamed. My arms and my legs flailed around. I could swim, but the rushing current made it hard to realize which way was up. Just the thought of the previous rains drowned me.
As I fought for control, I smacked into something hard, and a branch wrapped around my swinging arm. But it wasn't a branch. It was a hand. A big hand. And then, it let go.
When my head broke the surface, someone screamed, "Sophie!" Or was that all in my head? I looked around, but was sucked back under. I flipped in the water. My dress snagged on twigs, rocks, everything. I was going to die.
Pain shot up my spine as my body jerked up. I broke the surface again. Oxygen flooded my lungs. My head spun. I heard someone shout my name again. It sounded like my father, but my dad never called me Sophie. Never slapped my cheek until I came to either.
"Come on, focus," Noah's voice rose above the sirens that consumed the night air, the same night air that bit my exposed skin like sleet. "Breathe, Sophie."
I gurgled the water that my lungs rejected as Noah dragged us across the river. With one arm he swam us toward shore, with the other he held me. I clutched his heavy jacket, my fingers digging into him. A whimper escaped me. I was so numb I couldn't even help him swim, but I tried, until I almost slipped from his grasp. That's when I let him take him control. Depended on him to get us to safety. Tried not to think about what that meant.
As the current strengthened, and Noah was clearly losing his strength, he stretched out his swimming arm and somehow snagged a fisher's net. He pulled, and then I pulled. The net was our only chance to get to shore. Even with the item, we strained against the current, his foot kicking against mine, but we moved forward. Noah was a strong swimmer, stronger than anyone else I knew in the Topeka Region. I was wrong about him. He hadn't grown from the forest; he had come out of the water.
Before I even saw the water's edge, Noah pulled me onto the shore and then helped himself out. He gasped for breath, half of his torso collapsing on top of mine. Both of us spit up water, unable to care where it landed. I could barely breathe, and his hand moved to my head. His fingertips stroked my scalp like I needed the comfort. Honestly, I probably did.
He pushed himself up on shaking arms. "You okay?"
I slapped him across the face.
As if we hadn't had enough water, rain began to downpour, cold and wet like the river. I shook, but my hand remained in the air, and rain dropped off of his bangs. His face was already reddening from where I'd struck him, but there was red that wasn't supposed to be there. Blood. His head had split open, and blood trickled down his cheek. Even so, he didn't seem to notice. His widened eyes stared at me and only me.
"I-I—" My lips shook as they searched for words.
He pushed himself off of me and fell onto his back in the mud beside me. I sat up, half-expecting him to be unconscious, but he stared at the storm clouds.
Before I could ask him if he was okay, he spoke, "I was trying to save you."
Sirens continued to shriek as I realized how far away we had gotten from the party. The banquet hall was a glowing toothpick against against the stormy sky. If it weren't for the police car lights, I probably wouldn't have even been able to see it at all. We were far enough away that I could only make out the clock tower. The police would be too busy with the students present to chase anyone who ran. We had escaped. For now.
He turned to look down river. "We have to go," he whispered, then shoved his elbows down. He began to stand, but I grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. He flinched.
"Blood," I managed.
His eyebrows furrowed. He scanned every crevice of me before I realized he was checking me for injuries instead of himself.
"Your head," I clarified, leaning over to touch his face. I hesitated, but he didn't move. My fingertips met his chin. I carefully angled his head to look at it. A gash lined the right side of his hairline, and it was bleeding heavily. Even though the rain washed it away, it kept coming.
"You're bleeding," I said.
His peripheral vision searched for me. It took his sideways glance for me to realize how close we were, only centimeters apart. I could feel his heat through his wet clothes, and I bet he could feel mine.
I let go and scooted back as far as the mud would allow.
He straightened up. "You're not hurt, are you?" he asked. He had yet to acknowledge his own problems.
I didn't respond. I could only see his blood.
"I'm okay, Sophie," he promised, wincing as he lifted his fingers to his injury. He must have hit his head on a rock.
"You need a doctor," I said.
"Hospitals don't take my kind," he said, careful not to shake his head. He laid his hands on the ground and pushed himself up again. This time, I didn't pull him down. He only took a second to check himself for additional injuries, but when he didn't see anything, his eyes glided over me. My wet dress suddenly felt too tight.
"You're really not hurt?" he asked.
"I'm fine," I said, standing. "We should go." But he didn't move, and I didn't move, and he kept staring.
I fought the urge to tell him to stop looking at me. I didn't want to know what he saw after the river had torn my appearance to shreds. The dress had barely covered everything when it was in tact, let alone ripped. And my makeup wasn't exactly waterproof. At least I'd laid in the mud on my back. That much would be impossible to see.
Noah cleared his throat. "How close is your house from here?"
"I think you know that already."
His usual cocky self returned with a grin. "Thought I'd ask anyway."
"What a gentleman," I joked, and we laughed, only to stop when he winced. The sirens grew louder, closer. Maybe the police would chase escapees after all. Maybe they were after him.
"Let's go," I said, grabbing his arm.
He didn't move away. Instead, he leaned into me, walked with me. Though he didn't want to admit it, I knew Noah was hurt. His head injury couldn't be ignored, especially if he was dizzy. Living with a nurse taught me that much. But there was nothing I could do out here in the elements. I had to get him back to my house and, hopefully, Lyn.
"Broden got out," he said, his speech slurred. Not a good sign. If he passed out, I couldn't carry him. We'd be screwed. But if talking kept him awake, I had to reciprocate. I had to keep him conscious.
"And Lily?" I asked. "Miles? Everyone else?"
Noah shook his head, but I didn't know if it was to answer my question or to get the rain out of his eyes. I told him to keep his head still. He didn't move it after that, but I stared at his injury whenever I could. For a moment, even though it was dark, I could see his cheap hair dye washing away. His blond mop peeking through. With his dark jacket and ruffled appearance, he almost looked like he did the day in the forest.
"I'm not that hurt," he said, quickening our pace. "If we linger, you're going to get sick—or arrested." Right as he said it, I tripped. I fell forward, my knees hit the rocks, and I yelped. Noah jumped in front of me. "You all right?"
"I'm good," I said, knowing that a scraped knee was the least of our concerns.
He held out a hand, and I took it. In a second, he pulled me up, and I fell into his arms from the unexpected rush. I shivered, my face buried in his jacket, and his other hand wrapped around my shoulder blades as if to hold me there. He stiffened for a moment, his whole body rigid, and we both tensed against one another, neither moving. We remained like that despite the rain, despite the blood, despite the cops. Every instinct I had wanted to continue to hold onto him, but I pushed myself away.
"We need to keep going," I stumbled over my words and walked away. I only turned around when I was positive my blush was gone. Even though moments had passed, Noah remained on the riverbank, his expression flooded with an emotion I didn't recognize. His mouth hung open, his eyes were soft. He looked like he had woken up from a dream, and I expected to see his cat-eyes, explaining that he was witnessing our future arrest, but nothing happened.
Whatever caused his expression wasn't caused by drugs, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to find out what else had consumed his thoughts so completely.