~Lyra~
“Tasha, tell me what happened,” I said, and my voice was already shaking even though I was trying so hard to sound steady.
I could feel my own pulse in my throat, loud and choking, because she just stood there, swaying slightly, like she wasn’t sure if her legs were going to keep holding her up.
Her eyes kept darting past me, like maybe she thought someone had followed her here, like maybe whoever hurt her was about to come up the stairs any second.
Her lips parted, but no words came out, and I could see her chest rising and falling so fast that I honestly thought she might pass out right there on the doorstep.
“Tasha, please,” I said again, louder this time, because my brain was starting to race in a hundred directions at once. Was she hurt worse than I could see? Was she bleeding somewhere else? Was someone chasing her? Was this about the fire? Was she even supposed to be here?
“I’m begging you, just tell me what happened so I can understand, so we can help you, so I’m not standing here feeling like my entire stomach is going to turn inside out because I don’t know what’s going on.”
“You’re scaring me right now and I don’t even know if I should be scared or if I’m overreacting or if this is just me being dramatic, but you’re standing here looking like you’ve been through hell and you’re not saying a word, and it’s making me feel like my skin is too tight.
“Please just talk to me. I don’t care if it’s one sentence or ten or if it comes out in some kind of broken mess I have to piece together. Just give me something. Give me anything.”
Her lips trembled, and I could see the way her throat bobbed when she swallowed, but still nothing came out.
My heartbeat was so loud in my ears that I felt like I could barely hear my own voice, and yet I couldn’t stop myself from filling the silence because if I didn’t, it felt like the weight of whatever she wasn’t saying was going to crush me.
“I mean, look at you, Tasha,” I kept going, my hands fluttering helplessly in the air because I didn’t know if I should reach for her or if she’d pull away.
“Your hair’s a mess, your face is wet, and there’s blood-actual blood-on your head and your shirt, and your hands are shaking like you’ve been out in a blizzard for hours.
“Were you in an accident? Did someone hit you? Did someone follow you here? Because if they did, I swear I will scream this house down until Damon makes them regret even breathing in your direction.
“Did you run here? Did you even stop to breathe before knocking on the door? You’re pale, you look like you could collapse, and I can’t tell if you’re hurt badly or if you’re just… I don’t even know, Tasha. I don’t know, and it’s making me crazy.”
Still nothing. She just stared at me, her eyes glassy and wide, and that silence felt so heavy I wanted to shake her until the words fell out.
My chest was so tight it felt like I was breathing through a straw, and I hated it, hated not knowing, hated that she wouldn’t just tell me what happened so I could at least start figuring out what to do next.
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