Casper was just here to blow off some steam.
With a cane in hand, she struggled her way upstairs. Each step felt like it took every bit of strength she had left.
He glanced down, lit a cigarette, and a cold, thin smile crept across his lips. The smoke swirled around him, his dark eyes taking on a mysterious, unreadable look.
...
Eliza's legs were completely numb. All night, it felt like they'd been amputated.
In the morning, she groggily got out of bed and checked her temperature—102 degrees Fahrenheit. She called Chelsea, "Chelsea, could you get me some fever medicine? I've got a fever."
"What happened? Hold tight, I'm coming."
Without asking more, Chelsea rushed to the pharmacy, grabbed the meds, and drove over to Eliza's apartment complex.
"Elle?"
"Elle!"
Chelsea knocked for ages, but no one answered. She felt a knot tighten in her stomach. She remembered the spare key under the flowerpot and quickly fetched it.
She burst through the door and rushed to the bedroom. Eliza was in a feverish haze.
"Elle, are you okay? Forget the medicine. I'm taking you to the hospital."
Chelsea wasted no time getting Eliza to the nearest hospital. She watched Eliza's pale face, swollen knees, and injured palms, feeling a pang of heartbreak. How had this once-vibrant girl ended up like this?
Eliza woke up the next morning. She saw Chelsea and struggled to sit up. "Chelsea."
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