Page 91 of The Unravelings

And I can’t leave. That’s the worst part. Fuck.

I squeeze my eyes shut. How am I supposed to hold my shit together? I never have before. Sure, on the outside, I seem like I know what I’m doing. I’m an agent of the law. A survivor. A fighter. I’ve clawed my way through Veritas to get me to this point. My biggest case yet.

But am I truly living? No. I’m merely surviving. Barely. I’m pushing through the trauma that haunts my every move.

Especially being here.

I rub my temple. Okay, time to shower, get some coffee, and maybe find out what the hell happened last night.

Regret slams through me the moment I stand. My head swims. Yup. I need to drink a lot of fluids and fuck…

What day is it?

My brows furrow when I unlock my phone and an urgent campus-wide message appears from the dean, taking over my whole screen.

Dear students!

Today is the day we beat Cali State in blood collections for the first time in five years! Show your support at the East Side Auditorium, where the blood drive will be held from 12-6 p.m.!

All classes have been canceled for the day. Please remember, participating in this event automatically gives you an A in each course you are taking.

Free grades. Free cookies. Free orange juice!

Join us and support a good cause!

*All blood donations will be donated to the Greenwood Memorial and several charity chapters within Greenwood.

**The winning school will receive a catered event in honor of winning, and each participating student will receive extra volunteer hours.

Amber Whittmore.

Well, on the plus side, all my classes are canceled for the day. That’s a relief with how I’m feeling. On the downside, I’m almost positive I’ll have to go to the blood drive and show my face. For the extra credit, of course. But also, there’s something in the back of my mind drawing me toward the blood drive. Is it suspicious?

All for the sake of this case and investigating everything.

“Oli!” Simon says, sitting rigid on the couch and checking me over with his lips parted in surprise. “When did you get home?” He cocks his head, and my blood runs cold.

“W-what?” I stammer, staring at his horrified expression until his words sink in. “H-how did I get home?” I ask with a slight squeak, stumbling over my feet. “What do you mean? I thought we came home together.”

You know, because that’s what friends do. They carry each other home when one is too drunk to function, to make sure they’re safe. Or at least, that’s what girls do for each other.

“Oh,” Simon cringes, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “We couldn’t find you. I thought maybe you had come home earlier. So, Daniel and I left.” Without me? A guilty look crosses his face. “I’m so sorry, Oli. I didn’t realize you weren’t here, and it was too late, and I thought you were asleep…” He rambles on more, apologizing for leaving me behind, but it doesn’t do anything to ease the constant tension building in my chest.

They left me at the party. Alone. Vulnerable. Drunk. Anything could have happened to me. Even though I’m not a man and am dressing as one, men get taken advantage of, too.

I swallow the lump in my throat and bite my tongue. “It’s all right, Si,” I lie through my teeth, without going into the argument of never leaving a drunk friend behind. Man or woman, it doesn’t matter. Maybe he truly thought I was in the dorm already. Or maybe Simon didn’t think it through at all.

But this solidifies my need to stop going back to alcohol. Next time, water is my friend if I have to go to a party to spy.

“I really am sorry,” he says again with sincerity, pulling out his phone. The moment his fingers tap the screen, his smile returns and excitement beams on his face, replacing all the guilt he held. “But have you seen the party pics? Oh my God!” Simon howls excitedly. “We look hot! Literally!” He holds up his phone screen, showing Daniel, Simon, and me with glossy eyes and sweat pouring down our faces.

I recoil instantly, wanting to grab the phone from his hand and delete every one of them. There’s evidence out there now. Fuck. That suffocating feeling tightens around my chest like rubber bands squeezing the breath from my lungs. It would be okay if I remembered that picture being taken. Or what was happening at that moment.

“How are you even functioning after the poison you made us?” I frown, making my way toward the coffee maker with determination.

I need it now. I need to light a fire under my ass and prepare for the blood drive. But I also need to get my head straight so I can face the day and hopefully shake some memories loose.

Caffeine will fix everything.