Lost Hope

Chapter Eleven

I push my way through the crowd of fame-hungry people who have their phones pointed at Natasha while she lay on the floor. They all refuse to help. Their greed for likes and attention runs further than their empathy. I glare at them all, furious and sickened at their behaviour that continues to spread.

On my way to help her off the floor, I try my hardest to push people's phones down. They swear and scowl and then go straight back to recording.

"Isla," Natasha speaks in a giggly state, slurring her words in the process. She laughs hysterically as I attempt to walk her to an empty room.

"Help me out a little, won't you?" I tell her as I slowly set her down on the bed.

I wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans and let out a deep breath of exhaustion.

"I'm not that heavy, am I?" she asks.

"No."

There's a knock at the door before Lola peaks her head around and gives both me and Natasha a concerned look.

"Here." She passes me a glass of water which I quickly take from her hands before giving her a grateful smile. Before I can give it to Natasha, Lola grabs my forearm and pulls me back. She has a worried expression plastered on her face, but it's not for Natasha...it's for me.

"Are you both okay?"

I nod. "I'll look after her. Thanks for this."

I attempt to walk away again, but she grabs my arm once more.

"Isla," she whispers softly, looking tired. "Be careful."

My forehead crinkles as I try to figure out the meaning behind her words. I'm about to question it, but she slips away before I can even attempt a conversation. Lola closes the door behind her, leaving Natasha and I on our own.

I hesitantly turn around, Lola's words still spiralling in my head. I try to forget about it and focus on Natasha instead.

"Drink this," I instruct her.

"What is it?"

"Water."

She pushes it away and turns her head in disgust. "Ew."

"I'm serious. Drink it."

"Or what?"

I frown at the way she grins. I'm not one for jokes or games, especially in situations like this. I'm hardly holding on myself, how am I supposed to support Natasha as well? I'm trying my hardest, because I know she needs someone to lean on during this time, but what if I can't handle it? What if I'm not strong enough? I have no idea what to do.

"Drink it," I demand. My voice barely sounds like my own as I talk to her. I do this because Lola always used to speak to me in this manner when she would try to get me to drink water. It usually worked.

Rolling her eyes in a strop, Natasha huffs and sits herself up before taking the glass out of my hands and downing the contents. She exhales a deep breath and raises her eyebrows at me. "Satisfied?"

"It's better than nothing," I sigh, taking the glass from her. I place it on the counter beside the bed. "Why are you doing this?"

She shrugs her shoulders and lays back down, closing her eyes and trying to ignore my entire existence. I remember it used to irritate me when my family would ask those questions, not realising that they were only trying to help.

"It won't make you feel better," I tell her. "Not in the long run. You know that."

"I don't care," she mumbles.