Before rushing in on others in the bedrooms, I head to the only bathroom not attached to a bedroom, located at the end of the hall. Perhaps she just got sick and needed to let it all out.

To my relief, I find my best friend, Brooke, passed out in the bathtub, covered in vomit. "Brooke?!" I crouch down, gently tapping her face to wake her up. She groans but makes no effort to move or open her eyes. At this point, I resort to the one surefire way to get her attention.

I crank the shower to cold, knowing she could use it anyway. "AHHHHH!" she screams, immediately jolting awake. "What the hell?!"

"Look, you need to get it together so we can leave. This place is a madhouse, and I won't leave you here," I say, more irritated by the thought of anyone else stumbling upon her in this state than anything else.

"I'm sorry, Ava... What time is it?" Her bloodshot eyes are full of concern.

"Don't worry about that," I reply quickly. "Just finish your shower. I'm locking the door and finding you something to wear."

Before she can respond, I'm already out the door. I'm not sure if Everest even has a room here anymore, but I know Austin does. That's where I head first.

No surprise when the door swings open, revealing Austin mid-action with some blonde. At this point, I'm so sleep-deprived and fed up with everything that I don't even flinch.

I ignore the scene completely, and they don't even notice me as I head straight to his closet. I grab a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie.

Just as I'm about to leave, a redhead steps out of the bathroom, clearly stunned by my rummaging through Austin's things. "Um, honey, I think this girl is stealing your clothes," she says, pointing at me.

"What... What are you... Avery, what the hell?!" Austin doesn't yell at me, but his tone is more concerned, like he's wondering what's going on.

With all the calmness I can muster, I respond, "I found Brooke passed out in the bathroom. She's showering now, and I had to get her some clothes before we can get out of here."

I turn to leave, and before I close the door, I toss over my shoulder, "Thanks for the help, by the way," dripping with sarcasm.

—

Back in the bathroom, I end up climbing into the shower with Brooke to help her clean up, as she's been standing under the water the whole time I was getting her clothes.

I grip her tightly, my knuckles white from the pressure. I wasn't going to let her out of my sight for a second. Every person I passed in the house was scrutinized as I made my way out.

The guards at the gate don't give me any trouble this time, and I walk us all the way down to the road. Finally, I toss Brooke in the backseat of my truck, and she passes out almost immediately, as if nothing happened.

—

"Come on, Brooke, you need to work with me. I can't carry you." Brooke's a gym rat now, spending hours every day in the gym. Meanwhile, I'm scrawny and don't work out, so lifting her isn't an option.

"I'm never drinking again," she pleads as I help her out of the truck.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure you've said that a million times, but look where we are," I reply, glancing back at her. She's knocked out cold, snoring with her mouth wide open. I grab a garbage can and place it by her head, then throw a blanket over her.

I feel gross and dirty from rubbing up against strangers and cleaning up Brooke, so I quickly jump into the shower. The hot water feels amazing, like each droplet is a warm kiss. It's 3 a.m., and I'm so tired that I can barely keep my eyes open.

I finally make it to my bedroom, ready to collapse into bed.

But of course, nothing is ever simple.

My eyes widen as I see a large figure sitting at the edge of the bed, holding his face in his hands. I freeze, holding my breath, until he lifts his head.

Everest.

I exhale in relief, and my body instantly relaxes. "Are you okay?" he asks, concern etched on his face. His expression confuses me—why is he worried? We haven't even spoken in weeks.

"Yes, Everest. Why wouldn't I be okay?" I respond, walking around to the other side of the bed and climbing in. I'm beyond caring at this point.

"Austin told me you didn't look good, and about that guy who put his hands on you." I pull the covers over myself, barely registering what he's saying. "I'm fine," I manage to mutter as my eyes shut.

"You are now. I made sure of it. He doesn't have hands anymore. He didn't deserve them."

My eyes snap open, and I turn toward him, confused and furious.

"What are you talking about, Sin?!" I practically hiss at him.

He turns to face me, stumbling slightly. When he speaks, the smell of alcohol hits me like a wave.

"You're drunk," I say blankly, as he looks at me with those puppy dog eyes.

"I wouldn't let anyone hurt you. I'd kill for you," he says, his voice unsteady.

I don't respond, rolling over to face the wall. Seconds later, I hear him snoring, and I finally allow myself to drift into a much-needed, blissful darkness.