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She groans unintelligibly, and I smooth my hand down her back.
“I know,” I murmur to her. “I know, baby girl. Come here.”
I help her lean over the toilet, holding her close. When I push my fingers into her mouth, she doesn’t fight that either, and I stick them down her throat to make her throw up.
Or I try to, anyway. It’s not fucking easy. I know from experience that she doesn’t have much of a gag reflex.
When nothing happens the first time, I shove my fingers in deeper, not exactly being gentle with her. I can feel the desperation driving me, the worry about how much she might have drunk. I want the booze out of her system.
“Come on,” I murmur to her, trying to soothe her with one hand while I keep jamming my fingers into her mouth. She feels limp, just letting me do it, until finally, she gags and then follows that motion by leaning over and puking.
She heaves, throwing up mostly bile since she hasn’t eaten for hours. I flush the toilet and rub her back while she pukes again, her body shaking as she works herself through it.
The bathroom door opens, and I look up, ready to fuck up whoever’s coming in. But it’s just Knox, so I flush the toilet again.
He has a glass of water in his hand, and he looks at me with a grim light in his eyes. I know that expression on his face means he took care of the guy who had his hands all over River. There are flecks of blood on his shirt and on his hands.
Serves the fucker right.
River groans again, her face twisting into a grimace, and I shift my focus back to her, taking the water from Knox.
“You’re okay,” I tell her. “Can you drink a little of this for me, baby girl?”
She looks at me, and the fog is still there, but less heavy than before. At least she seems to know who I am, even if she isn’t responding.
River doesn’t make a move to take the glass, but when I hold it up to her mouth, she doesn’t fight me, sipping at the cool water and swallowing.
“Good girl. That’s good. Have a little more, okay?”
She swallows again, drinking in little sips until I pull the glass away.
Her skin is pale, and there’s spit and drying vomit around her mouth, so between Knox and me, we get her over to the sink. Together, we wash her face, splashing the cold water on her skin to try to jolt her back to reality.
We help her rinse out her mouth a little too, and by the time we’re drying her off, she seems less fucked up—from the booze, anyway.
She’s able to stand on her own, not swaying or stumbling like she was before, but she’s still just... gone. There’s nothing behind her eyes. None of that fire that’s usually there.
She’s checked out, like she’s being swallowed up by her demons and has just stopped fighting it.
Even when we talk to her, her face is dull and empty.
It’s so different from how she usually is, and it’s fucking terrifying. Fear for her rises inside me, hot and intense, threatening to swallow everything else.
Priest said we need to be there for her, but it seems like there’s nothing left of her to be there for. There’s no way I can stand by and watch her be swallowed up, watch her refuse to fight back, and I grip her jaw hard, forcing her to look at me.
There’s still no light to her dark blue eyes, and the shadows underneath them look like bruises, adding to the pale, sickly look she has.
“River,” I say gruffly, trying to get through to her, trying to make her hear me. “Listen to me. Do you remember what I asked you the night you killed Ivan?”
Her brows pull together a little, but the glazed look doesn’t leave her eyes.
“Are you ruined?” I demand, repeating the words I said then.
They’ve always been enough to pull her back from the brink, to make her remember her fight and her spirit. To remember she’s a warrior who can’t be taken down.
But now she just blinks at me. Her beautiful dark blue eyes are clouded and dark. She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out at first. Then she licks her lips and tries again, whispering one word. The first thing she’s said since we found her here.
“Y… yes.”
