Chapter 67

“ZARA?!” I call out, panicking and sniffing the air for her rose and chamomile scent. I follow my nose to the bathroom. 

“Zara?” I crack the door open and peek in.

I see her curled up next to the toilet. She looks clammy and her eyes are closed, her head is resting against the toilet seat. When she opens her eyes, she tries to look at me, but the movement upsets her stomach. She turns and vomits into the bowl. Well, mostly into the bowl. The smell of apple juice and a faint familiar sweet tang mixes with the pungent bile from her stomach. 

Oh fuck. This can’t be happening. I look at my watch. It’s four forty-five a.m. If she’s vomiting now, that means she took the drug before she cut herself. She must have mixed in it with the juice.

“No no no no no, Zara, no no no…” I run over and kneel next to her, taking her face in my hands. Her head is heavy and her eyes try to roll back, but she’s fighting to keep looking at me. I use my sleeve to wipe