In Her Wake

Chapter One

The room was cold. Freezing, actually. Esme doubted hospital rooms were permitted to be as cold as that one. Then again, maybe it was just her. She nervously drummed patterns against her knees.

Wet clothes clung to her skin. As it turned out, dragging a person out of a bathtub was harder than she'd thought, especially when they were knocked out and unconscious. Her teeth grinding, she crossed her arms over her chest, curling up further into the tiny bedside chair. Clinging to any warmth the small jacket she had on provided.

Glancing over at Juliette, seeing her covered in all that medical stuff, it didn't look like her... but it did. Somehow even now with her hooked up to all these machines, she still managed to make Esme's breath hitch. She considered touching Juliette's fingers to check if they were cold, guessing the pain medications were strong enough to keep her from waking up.

It took her a minute, a selfish one, because unassuming her position meant releasing whatever body heat she had gathered. But she did, and Juliette's hand was warm. Those ugly beige blankets sure did their job. Esme slid her pointer across it, melting into soft and hot skin. Unreal.

This Juliette felt alive, unlike the Juliette that was lying unmoving in the tub replaying in Esme's head. Over and over she watched her body sink, and the repetition didn't make the gut punch any easier.

Her fingers reached for Juliette. They wrapped around her wrist, feeling the pulse thumping against her palm. She sighed as she felt it, beating and strong. She wanted—needed—to cry. Ever since she called Shelby and left a voicemail when she didn't answer—probably asleep at 2 a.m.—she had wanted to finally break down. Yet, she found her eyes wouldn't shed more than a single, miserable tear each time. She rested her forehead on the bed, breathing in and out until the feeling was abated by the silence of the room.

As the silence settled, Esme's mind drifted to her own past, to the night she had tried to end it all. The guilt of that night still clung to her, as palpable as the cold in this room. She remembered the look on Penny's face when she found her, the panic in Emma's voice, the tears in Tegan's eyes. And her mom, the time she nearly overdosed – she couldn't imagine what it felt like seeing your own kid like that. She'd seen the aftermath, the way her mom's strength had seemed to crumble, even though she tried to hide it. They had all been there for her, pulling her back from the brink, standing by her as she recovered. She had promised herself she'd never put them through that again.

Yet here she was, on the other side, feeling the same helplessness her friends must have felt. The thought of Juliette slipping away, of not being able to save her, was a knife twisting in her gut. She couldn't let that happen. Not to Juliette. Not to someone she loved.

Esme lifted her head and whispered, "You're not wrong, Jules. You're not." She said even if Juliette couldn't hear her. Her voice barely broke the quiet, but it was a promise, a vow. She would be here when Juliette woke up. She would help her see that she wasn't alone, that she was loved just as she was.

The cold seemed to seep less into her bones, as she let out a deep breath, she settled back into her chair, never letting go of Juliette's hand.

"Esme?" Juliette called after a while, her voice hoarse but sweet. Esme's eyes shot up as she straightened. "Hey," she half-smiled, resisting the urge to jump on the bed and hug her breathless. She didn't think they were close friends enough to do something like that.

Juliette looked around, realization dawning, her face twisting into a grimace. She avoided Esme's eye contact, instead looking down at her hands—one of which was wrapped from punching the bathroom mirror—now fidgeting with the blanket.

Esme knew what she was thinking, more than she'd like to admit. She understood that guilt, knowing that your attempt had failed, that someone had found you. She'd felt it too, she still did. So the only thing she could think to do was attempt to calm Juliette's nerves.