I’d sat behind Drew for years in various classrooms.
I’d recognize the back of his head anywhere.
Even on the ground covered in blood.
I didn’t remember screaming, but when I mentioned that my throat was inexplicably sore, Aiden said I woke up half the neighborhood yelling for help. All I remembered was hearing Drew groan in pain and the relief that flooded through me when his eyelids fluttered.
He’d been attacked, beaten within inches of his life, but he was alive.
The doctors said their guess so far was fists, feet, and possibly a lacrosse stick or baseball bat. I heard the police say something about “multiple assailants” in the waiting room.
Me, Aiden, Drew’s mom, and his sister, Stacy, sat in silence in the Emergency room waiting area. Aiden had called 911 and they’d made us wait in excruciating purgatory on the paramedics. Because they didn’t know what had happened, they didn’t want us to move him.
I knew I’d have nightmares about the sounds his mom made when she arrived and saw them putting his broken body into the ambulance.
After over an hour at the hospital, they still wouldn’t give us any real answers. Mrs. Echols asked if his condition was stable and they wouldn’t confirm. She asked about his vitals and they said a doctor would come speak to her shortly.
Though we couldn’t get any answers, we were bombarded with questions.
The police had shown up shortly after we’d arrived. They’d asked how long I’d known Drew, if I’d known who his plans had been with, and if he’d received any threats. Now, two uniformed police officers and Camille’s dad were questioning Drew’s mom incessantly, asking if she had any idea why anyone would do this to her son.
Does he have any enemies?
Just half the country.
Has he recently been in conflict with any of his classmates?
He was a passive aggressive smart ass, so yeah. Weekly.
Can you think of anyone in particular who would’ve had a grudge against him?
Anyone on the lacrosse team who knew his secret.
I’d tol
d Aiden repeatedly to go home, that I was okay. But he hadn’t listened. He’d already brought me a coffee and some peanut butter crackers from a vending machine, but I couldn’t stomach either.
Finally, around two in the morning, when the police were gone and the waiting area was quiet, Drew’s mom stepped over to me with red-rimmed eyes and a weary demeanor.
“Emersyn,” she said, sounding a hundred years old. “You should get home. It’s late. I’ll text you if anything changes.”
I swallowed the constricting lump in my throat. “I can stay. Really. I don’t mind.”
She placed her small, frail hand on my arm. “I know. And I appreciate that, and Drew will too. But there’s no sense in worrying your mother to death. Go home. Get some rest. You can come back tomorrow.”
I didn’t speak for fear I’d cry, just nodded and made my way toward the exit doors. Aiden followed close behind and again, placed a guiding hand on my lower back. I appreciated the comfort, but I felt so…numb.
Part of me wanted to flip out and become completely hysterical and outraged. I wanted to find whoever had done this and murder them with my bare hands. Immediately. But the entire ordeal made me feel weak. Helpless.
Much like how watching my mother deteriorate before my eyes made me feel.
Aiden seemed to sense that I wasn’t up for talking and made no attempts to initiate conversation. I’d put what had happened between us earlier so far in the back of my mind the moment I saw Drew, that I still hadn’t processed it.
Everything came crashing down on me at once.
My mom’s volatile temper.
Ethan disappearing at the carnival.