Manuel threw his head back and laughed. “Ah, you have fuega. I like it.” His eyes raked over her form obscenely. “I see you have your mind made up. I would like to see my money now, Mr. Sumner.”
Pan nodded, walked over to the closet and pulled out a black duffle bag. He dropped it onto the bed then went to stand by Lark. He rested his hand on her shoulder and she covered it with her own. It trembled slightly, but her face was a fortress. Good girl.
“It’s all here, boss.”
“Have them bring the girl up.”
Jose nodded and removed a phone from his suit. “Bring her up.”
“I keep my end of deals,” Manuel stated.
A few moments later, a knock came on the door.
Jose hefted the duffel bag onto his shoulder. Then, the nameless Hulk opened the door.
At the sight standing there, Pan’s heart plummeted.
“I’ll be seeing you again. Of this, I am sure,” Manuel purred. The men left as quickly as they arrived.
Robin was smaller than her sister, around five-foot-seven inches and maybe ninety
pounds…soaking wet. Emaciated, her bones stuck out in angles sharp enough to cut. Her black hair looked ratty and full. Chopped into awkward layers, it hung around her oval shaped face.
The dark smudges under her eyes looked perma
nently painted onto her flesh.
This is the true definition of the living dead.
She toddled toward them like a baby learning to walk. The white spaghetti-strapped dress tented around her frame, lending her a ghostly appearance. The lack of track marks told him she shot up between her toes. Bruises lined her legs.
“Robin,” Lark whispered horrified.
“Hey, Sis,” Robin slurred. “Long time no see.” She paused in front of him. “Who’s this?”
“I’m Pan, why don’t you sit down.”
Her eyes looked unfocused.
He grabbed her arm and guided her to the bed.
Lark rushed over. “Fuck! How much did you take?”
“Enough,” Robin slurred. She pressed a hand to her head. “Ugh.”
Lark held her hands to her face. Concern furrowed her brow and drew the corners of her lip down. “It’s hitting her now.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Robin agreed.
“She’s not looking so good,” Pan said.
“I know,” Lark whispered.
Robin wrestled out of her sister’s hold and rolled onto her side. She clutched her waist and curled into a ball.
“Shit,” Pan whispered. He recognized the signs of overdose.
“No. Don’t you fucking do this to me. No!” Lark hissed.