Ryder

twenty four

"Octavio! Octavio."

Brooke is going to be dead.

"I think something happened while I was playing with joya right here."

Brooke is dead. Brooke is dead. Brooke was dead.

"What?"

"I was distracted! I didn't see!"

"Get the fuck out of my way, Rafael, before I throw you out of this house."

"I will, but promise me you'll handle this carefully because querida seems seconds away from freaking the fuck out."

"Stop calling her that."

Stop calling her that. Brooke Brooke Brooke. She wasn't here. She was dead. Was she dead? No, she wasn't. That wasn't possible.

I was so deep in my head, so deeply tangled within my racing, feverish thoughts, that I wasn't aware, didn't think I was aware of what was happening around me. There were voices that didn't matter, the air suffocating me. It was all happening so fast and there was a crash that rattled me so suddenly. A raw--scared--sound left my lips.

"Ow, you fucking bastard." Raff groaned from somewhere and I looked around frantically. I was in the kitchen. I was standing in the corner, the furthest corner and the darkest spot, not sitting on the stool anymore, and something was pressing into my back, a hard surface, a drawer. I was in Ryder's house.

And Ryder was suddenly there right in front of me.

There must've been something on my face, something visible that he saw since he stopped before he could've taken another step towards me. He was scowling, confused, eyes darting between my own and searching.

I inhaled too fast and it felt like I was choking on air. Hot, burning air. I pulled away and backed into the corner wall, a safe spot away from everyone and everything. Brooke was dead. I remembered last night. I remembered bits from last night. Or I think I did even when my head was racing just as fast as the adrenaline rush in my ears.

I did remember the whisper-touch of warm fingers over my hands, my wrists, my arms. My face--a soft brush against my cheek. I breathed fast, eyes hot and stinging because I didn't remember who it had been. A stranger? I'd told him so much. He'd asked me so much about everything and I'd blabbered and blabbered and I'd told him things about Brooke and Ryder and my life and my family without even thinking twice.

"Alice."

I shook my head, hair sticking to my cold cheeks and my heart racing so fast it felt like it might burst out of my chest any given second now. I pushed back against the wall as if it would crumble away and let me back away further into the dark. I didn't want to be here. I'd messed up. What had that paper and those words meant? I didn't even know where my sunglasses were and I couldn't breathe.

"Alice." A firm, somewhat careful voice snapped me out of my head, but just momentarily. Ryder was here. He was here. "Alice, look at me."

Someone's out to get me, the same words kept repeating in my head. Again and again and again until it felt like I might vomit them out. Someone knows everything about me. I've done something stupid. He drugged my drink last night and I let him touch me and squeeze out every bit of information from me.

No. No, he'd been talking about Brooke. He'd asked me about Brooke. He knew her. Had he been a relative or a friend of Brooke? But that didn't make any sense. Brooke is dead--those words didn't make any sense.

"Alice." He took another step closer and I made that scared noise once again, that scared terrified noise that made it feel like someone was trying to claw my heart out of my chest. He stopped at once and eyed me with an alarmed, furious look. "What the hell's going on? What happened?"