ELARA
I threw up.
It wasn’t just a little gag or a queasy stomach—it was violent, wrenching, and relentless. But who wouldn’t, after witnessing that much blood in such a short amount of time? The image was burned into my mind, vivid and replaying every time I closed my eyes.
No one spoke as we drove home.
I kept checking my phone, refreshing news sites and social media, searching desperately for any mention of the incident. Nothing. Not a single word about it. It was like it never happened, but the blood on my clothes and the sour taste of vomit lingering in my mouth were proof enough.
Eventually, we made it back to the house. I didn’t wait for the car to come to a full stop before I wrenched open the door and stumbled out. The door slammed shut behind me. I didn’t care if Dave was fo
