How to Save Your School From Soul Stealing Demons

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 12TH
6:51 PM
VANTERBEST HIGH NURSE'S OFFICE

Thankfully, the nurse's office is unlocked. Ambrose turns on the lights, pulling the curtain down over the doors' glass panel. Renny sits with a heavy sigh in one of the plastic chairs against the wall. Watts takes the seat next to her as I head for the sink, washing my hands clean of blood and vomit.

I splash my face, wincing as some of the water stings the wounds on my neck. Those won't be fun to clean, that's for sure.

Ambrose is busy rummaging through cabinets, pulling out various wipes, bandages, and bottles. He sets some on the table next to Watts as I drag myself to a stool next to the medical bed and sit down.

Renny has her eyes closed, head resting against the beige wall behind her. I can only imagine how she's feeling—but we all lowered that ax, in a way. I hope she knows that. This isn't just on her shoulders.

"Clean her wounds with this," Ambrose says, tossing Watts a plastic-wrapped towel that he just manages to catch, "and warm water. Don't rub, dab. You want to soak them."

"I can do it myself," Renny insists without opening her eyes.

"No."

"I can—"

"You're not in a clear headspace, Ren. Your hands are shaking so much that you'd probably end up hurting yourself. Just rest."

With a sigh, she opens her eyes and angles her body towards Watts. He nods along as he listens to a few more instructions from Ambrose, who seems to know what he's talking about. When he's done with them, he comes over to me, more supplies in hand. He sets them on the leathery bed, gaze trained on my neck.

"Thanks," I say, realizing that if it wasn't for him, there'd be a lot more than puncture wounds. "You know, for getting her off of me."

He gives a single nod. Then, the slightest hint of a smile as he heads to the sink to wet another washcloth. "You might not thank me after you feel this."

I shrug, but even the slight movement of my shoulders stings the wounds. "Better than dying."

I turn my head so he can clean the area, and wince at the fiery stinging sensation. I clench my fist, trying to focus on anything other than the pain. Watts is dabbing at Renny's face with the utmost care, more focused than I've ever seen him.

My eyes wrench shut as Ambrose applies pressure to the wound, and the darkness places me somewhere else. A time when my neck was covered in burns instead of lacerations and there was a paramedic tending to me instead of Ambrose. I can practically feel the hot Houston sun on my skin, can almost smell the smoke from the accident.

"Move," I demand, eyes shooting open, arm blindly pushing Ambrose out of my way as I stumble from the stool, sending it backward with a loud screech as I rush for the trashcan to empty my stomach again.

When I finish heaving, I stay hunched over the metal bin, mumbling out a weak, "Sorry."

"You okay?" Watts asks from across the room.

I nod, straightening and heading back to the sink to rinse my mouth again. I move back to the stool when I'm cleaned up, face hot with embarrassment. "Sorry," I say again, this time to Ambrose. "For pushing you, I mean. I didn't want to... you know."

"You're sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. It's... I don't handle stuff like this well since the accident with Miguel. First the blood, now this... it's just a lot, is all."