The Storms Of August

Chapter Thirty Two: Just A Little Unwell

Demi's house was silent, as per usual. The sound of her keys being dropped on the ceramic dish by the door echoed down the hall and up the staircase. She didn't say much. She was too focused on getting to her bed. With our hands linked, we walked up the stairs and into her room slowly. Almost immediately upon entrance, she collapsed into her bed. I thought she was out cold by the way her body crumbled, but a muffled voice told me otherwise. "If you go down the hall, there is one closed door on the left by the stairs. I need you to go into it. There is a closet in the back. I need you to feel behind the dresser with the wedding dress and pull out the shoe box. I do not care what you do with it, sell it, toss it, whatever. It just cant be here."

I assured her I would and helped her get her limbs on the bed. I could tell by the way her breathing was that there was nothing that she would do for herself right now. As I lifted her arm to put it next to her, I felt her skin. It was as if someone lit a match to it. I felt her forehead and felt a bonfire instead. When I gently slid my hand under the red hoodie, I felt moisture seeping through the shirt. Her breathing was uncomfortably loud in its shallowness. In every inhale, the rattle of a bell rested in her lungs. As my palm rested on warm and slightly wet cloth, I could feel her heartbeat beneath her spine. Pumping, thudding pressure that begged to survive the absence of the danger in which her veins had become so comfortable with. Her heart was unaware of the ease in which her blood was moving.

I remember all the times I'd lulled to sleep on this once steady heartbeat. Back when nights were young and her soul was the anchor of a boat I laid my dreams on. All the way to when we were dim witted and short minded, but she was strong and longstanding. Drunk, sober, they all blurred together like watercolors now. Splashes of a brighter and hotter night sky overtook the most beautiful lightyears of our recent past. That laugh cannot be supported by her shortness of breath. We have all fallen silent over a fallen hero. Even her heartbeat has changed, slowed and grown hollow, listening to the sounds of empty hallways and bottom-upped bottles hitting the marble countertop. The drum beneath my hand used to take the four of us anywhere, but its fading beat we could not follow, so we all lost each other.

"Demi I need you to sit up for me," I said quickly, pulling on her shoulders.

"Why?" She replied with a long, weak groan.

I rolled her over and lifted her eyelids with my fingers. She unsuccessfully protested and I pulled her up. Demi moaned and started to lean over the edge of the bed. I heard the croak in her throat just in time to get the trash bin under her nightstand in front of her. "We're going to clean you up, okay? I'm going to get some ice and towels and some Benadryl but you need help, Demi."

"I can't go to the hospital," Demi pleaded, sudden adrenalin opening her eyes, "My dad would kill me. His company would suffer if any press catch wind of this. August, please," Demi gave me the most desperate look I ever saw her give, her entire life was riding on my loyalty to her, "Do what you need to do, call someone if you have to, but I can't leave this house."

I wiped off Demi's mouth and face before removing the sweatshirt from her sticky body. I also switched out her pants for loose shorts before texting Nick to come over ASAP and ran to the kitchen for what I needed. I could feel my heart beating out of my chest and I could hear my own pulse overpowering my footsteps on the tile floor. How could we turn into this? Not too long ago she was just a girl that smoked and drank more than the average teen. I was just a girl afraid of living. Demi puked beside me and I hardly flinched. Now I'm in a millionaire's kitchen filling ziplock bags with ice as if his addict daughter had just bumped her knee on the coffee table. My mom always told me water flushed toxins out of the body so I grabbed some waters too. I got a bag of frozen peas for her head and found the ibuprofen for a likely headache. I wasn't sure if crossing it with Benadryl would kill who I was attempting to save but I figured I'll read the labels later. Last minute, I grabbed a thermometer from the medical cabinet. I rushed upstairs with the sounds of quiet crying ushering me forward. I came back and found her leaning over the bed with sweat dripping down the sides of her face.