Slow Burn

Chapter 11

don’t even remember how it started. One moment Natalie was grinning, bouncing on the edge of my bed with her usual frantic energy, and the next I felt my chest tighten so much I thought I might collapse. She was telling some story about a boy in our year—something completely ridiculous—but her words felt like a spotlight shining on every irritation I had stuffed down for weeks.

“Come on, Ashley, you’re being dramatic,” Natalie said, leaning closer. “It’s just a story. You’re taking it way too seriously.”

I couldn’t even look at her. My fingers curled into fists beneath the sleeves of my hoodie. “Dramatic? You think it’s dramatic to lie and twist things about people, Natalie? You do this all the time, and I just… I just can’t…” My voice cracked halfway, but I didn’t care. It had been weeks of pretending everything she did was harmless, of swallowing every little annoyance. The dam inside me cracked, and all the resentment spilled over.

Natalie blinked. “Ash… I—”

“Don’t,” I said, sharp and cold. My words sliced through the room, sticking in the air. “I’m sick of pretending everything you do is harmless. I’m sick of pretending I don’t notice. I’m sick of… everything.”

She stared at me, mouth opening, closing, opening again. She didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t want her to. I shoved my laptop onto the desk with more force than I intended and stormed toward the door. “I need air,” I muttered, my voice tight. I barely avoided tripping over my hoodie. I left her on the bed, frozen, and slammed the door behind me.

The hallway was quieter than usual. The buzz of other students felt distant, muffled, almost underwater. I could hear the thrum of my own heartbeat and the angry echo of my thoughts. The walls felt like they were closing in, and every breath was heavy, thick.

My phone buzzed. I ignored it at first, fingers curled around my hoodie sleeves like they were shields. But the buzzing wouldn’t stop. Ethan. His name flashed on the screen, the light making my chest tighten further. I didn’t want him to see me like this—not while I was furious, not while my anger made everything sharper. I swiped down without answering.

Another buzz. And another. Each one made my stomach twist tighter. He was worried. He didn’t know what was happening with Natalie and me, but he could sense it. I could practically feel it through the vibration in my pocket. My teeth clenched. Why now? Why him? I wasn’t ready to talk. Not while the anger was still raw.

I shoved the phone deeper into my pocket. And then, as if the universe knew it couldn’t pile on enough, the next call came. Charles. My stomach lurched. Something inside me screamed that this wasn’t going to be a casual chat.

I answered, voice tight. “Hello?”

“Ashley,” Charles’ voice was strained, urgent. “It’s Lila. She… she locked herself in the kitchen. She’s… she’s got tissues… I don’t know—please, Ashley, you need to come.”

I froze. The world tilted on its axis. “What do you mean? Tissues?”

“She… she’s bleeding. She’s… she’s really upset. Please, Ashley. Come now.” His voice wavered, a note of panic threading through it.

I didn’t wait. I didn’t hesitate. Ethan’s calls were buzzing relentlessly, ignored, but I didn’t care. Lila needed me. I dropped my bag, sprinted from the house, and ignored the world.

By the time I arrived, I could hear muffled sobs through the kitchen door. I knocked lightly at first, then more firmly. “Lila? It’s me. Ashley. Please open up.”

The door creaked, and I caught sight of her through the c***k. Blood smeared across her wrist, tissues clutched in her hand. Her eyes were wide, red, and wet, and I could feel a pang in my chest that made me want to scream.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice trembling. “I didn’t mean… I just…”

My chest tightened. I stepped closer, keeping my hands just short of touching her. “Lila… shh. It’s okay. You’re safe now. I’m here.”

She collapsed into me, sobbing against my hoodie. “I’m so sorry, Ashley. I didn’t… I couldn’t…”

I held her tight, rubbing her back gently, murmuring, “I know, I know. It’s okay. It’s over now. You’re not alone.”

I guided her into the living room, keeping her close as her tears soaked my hoodie. Charles had arrived too, hovering nervously in the doorway. I could feel him trying not to stare, trying to respect her space, but his worry made the air tense.

We sat there for what felt like hours. Lila apologized over and over, crying and trembling, trying to rearrange the mess on the counter as if she could put her pain back into order. Charles whispered reassurances, telling her she was okay, that she didn’t need to fix everything. And through it all, I held her. She needed someone steady, someone who wouldn’t leave.

Ethan’s calls and texts kept coming, lighting up my pocket. I ignored them. I didn’t want to answer—not now, not while Lila’s sobs filled my ears and the weight of everything pressed down on me. My chest was full of anger at Natalie, guilt over ignoring Ethan, and fear for Lila. It was overwhelming.

Eventually, after Charles had calmed her down and left her in my care, I guided her home. She was quiet now, her energy spent, fragile as a cracked vase. I stayed with her until she fell asleep, murmuring softly about everything and nothing, just keeping her safe.

When I finally returned home, the apartment was quiet. My room felt impossibly empty and loud at the same time. Ethan’s notifications flashed endlessly, and I could feel the tension in my chest coiling tighter. I knew he cared. I knew he was worried. But I couldn’t let him in. Not yet.

I lay down on my bed, phone on my chest, staring at the ceiling. My body ached from adrenaline and emotion. I cried silently, thinking about Natalie, Lila, Ethan, and all the chaos that had come before. I hated the way my friends and my feelings were intertwined so messily.

Eventually, I fell asleep. Not peacefully, not comforted, but completely and utterly exhausted. For a few hours, I was just a body under blankets, breathing in the quiet, letting the world spin without me.