Schuyler
As morning light filters through the open curtains, I roll away from it hoping to catch some more sleep. As my left cheek hits the pillow, pain registers in my brain, and my eyes open wide. I sit up. My fingertips find my cheek swollen and warm. I slide from the bed, padding my way to the bathroom down the hall. I note Dallas's door is no longer open; I assume she made it home.
My eyes squint at the bright vanity lights. Leaning toward the mirror, I instantly notice my swollen cheek is bright red. The heat and redness concern me. Wanting another opinion, I knock on Dallas's door.
“What?" she moans.
“Dallas, something's wrong. I need your help." I try to keep the concern I'm feeling hidden until I get her opinion.
At my words, I hear footsteps on the tile floor, then the door
