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I race toward the bedroom doorway and I basically push Jax out of the way.
“I swear, I’ll call you as soon as I can,” I call out.
I find a pair of slip-on shoes and I’m out the door and running.
A voice in my head is screaming at me to call the police. Or an ambulance. Call for help! Why am I the one taking this burden on?
A part of me wonders if Ward is just fucking around though. Looking for attention. I can’t picture him actually…
I shiver and my stomach turns.
I’ve already texted him twice that I’m on my way.
Halfway across campus he replies to my texts.
OK
At least I know he’s still alive, right?
I feel panic creeping through my body when I arrive at his building.
I race down the hallway and open his door.
Thankfully it was unlocked…
“Ward!” I call out. “Ward, it’s me! I’m here! I told you I’d be here. Where are you?”
I freeze up, taking in the situation.
I really don’t know the seriousness or severity of what Ward texted me.
I don’t know if he has a weapon or…
“Mila?”
Ward’s voice is coming from his bedroom.
I take a deep breath, then take my chances and run to his bedroom.
I push the door open and find Ward sitting on the floor.
His back against his bed.
I look around for any obvious signs of trauma.
It’s just him and a bottle between his legs.
Fuck. He’s trying to drink himself to death…?
“You showed up,” Ward says. Or I should say - slurs.
“What are you doing, Ward?”
“Checking out. It’s time to go. This isn’t working for anyone.”
“If you’re even remotely serious…”
“This is my second bottle,” he says. “Second one, baby!” He snorts. “I’m not as smart as you, Mila. I can’t do the math on how much to drink until… you know…” He puts his head back and closes his eyes. “I could just go the way like rock stars do. Crash on my back and hope that I-”
