Forty-One
The QuestionNot much time had passed when Noah's urgent voice interrupted my sobs. “April! Oh God, are you okay?” His hand rested on my shoulder, and my eyelids fluttered open.
I sat up, staring at him through tear rimmed eyes, and nodded.
“Are you sure? You're covered in blood?”
Red, wine-soaked jeans stuck to my legs; a spot of blood stained the front of my purple t-shirt. Fine scratches traced up my arms and weaved between the bruises. Abrasions marked my knuckles and palms. A fragment of green glass poked out from a superficial cut at the base of my thumb. The air reeked of alcohol. “Mostly wine. Some blood.” I grasped the shard between my fingers and removed it, sucking in through my teeth as it stung more than I thought. “Where's everyone?”
“Looking for you. Jasmy cou
