Page 80 of Overdose

He yanks a small vial from an inner pocket, clear, with a faded red label, and breaks the cap with his thumb. “Naloxone,” he snaps. “For overdoses. You think I don’t keep shit on me? In this business? Just one dead kid at a drop and the whole block burns.”

He’s already got her jaw open, tipping the liquid into her slack mouth. “Come on, baby. Swallow. Swallow for me.”

Her throat doesn’t move.

He cradles the back of her head, massaging it, coaxing her to respond, his voice falling to a whisper. “That’s it, pretty girl. You gotta help me here, okay? You don’t get to leave like this.”

I flick my eyes between the road and the mirror. My heart’s in my throat, thudding like it’s trying to punch a hole through my spine. “You were carrying that around all night?”

He looks up, wild-eyed, blood on his fingers. “Of courseI fucking was. I deal to addicts, Noir. You think I don’t plan for worst-case shit?”

She makes a sound then, a sick, guttural croak, but nothing else.

Dagger brushes the hair from her face, all rough gentleness. “I was supposed to keep her safe,” he murmurs, more to himself. “She wasn’t supposed to?—”

Then her back arches. Violently.

“FUCK!” he roars. “She’s crashing! She’s fucking crashing!”

Blood-tinged foam leaks from her mouth. Her lips twitch, then go death-still.

“Blair—” my voice catches. “No, no, no.Come on, baby. Don’t you fucking do this?—”

Dagger’s already moving, already giving her breath, compressions, whatever it takes. “You don’t die on me. Do you hear me? You don’t fuckinggetto die!” I slam my foot down. Tires scream.

“Fuck, man—” my voice breaks, raw and useless. “She’s so fucking close?—”

“Then DRIVE, goddamn it! FLOOR IT!”

And I do.

God help me, I fucking do.

Horns blare as I tear through traffic, lights bleeding past in streaks, hospital signs rising like ghosts ahead.

“Stay with us,” Dagger pleads, his voice wrecked. “Baby, come on. Come back. Breathe. Please—fuck—just breathe.”

“Hold on,” I whisper, eyes burning. “You hold on, Blair. You fucking fight.”

And we’re both screaming her name into the night like it’ll anchor her, like it’ll drag her back.

Like if we scream loud enough, she won’t die.

But deep down, I know the truth.

We never should’ve brought her into this world.

Never should’ve let her breathe the same poison we’ve been drowning in for years.

This wasn’t her war.

And now it might be the last thing she ever knew.

Sixteen

Blair

I’m floating.