24 safe

                                    

                                          
Jem
                          
SHE’S GONE. Indigo is gone. When I stir awake, last night flashes bright in my memory, but when I turn to the other side of my bed, it’s empty. She left. Brief panic floods my core as I blink past the sunlight filtering through the cracks in my curtains.
                          
I want to believe the best — that she didn’t leave. That she’s still here somewhere around the apartment. But I don’t miss the note on my desk. Walking over, I reach for it.
                          
Thank you, it says.
                          
Her handwriting looks shaky. Misplaced. I know it’s irrational, and that she doesn’t owe me anything, but at the very least, I’d like to know that she got home safe.
                          
Frustrated, I reach for my phone and dial her number. It goes straight to voicemail. Her words from last night replay in my mind. I don’t want to be an inconvenience. I swear you won’t see me again after tonight.
                          
Something seems off, and I can’t seem to shake the feeling, even after I brush my teeth and take a shower. Sauntering to the kitchen, I find a disgruntled looking Eli, nursing what looks like one hell of a hangover.
                          
He barely acknowledges me as I head to the fridge, and I turn to face him. His hair is messy as fuck, and there are dark shadows under his eyes. I narrow my eyes at the array of clear-cut hickeys on his neck. “What happened to you?”
                          
“Can’t remember,” he mutters, shovelling a spoon of cereal into his mouth.
                          
I frown as I chug down a glass of juice. Eli’s not one for casual hook-ups. For a second, I’d managed to get Indigo out of my mind, but seeing Eli reminds me of how concerned she was about him last night. Pulling out my phone, I dial her number again. No luck—it goes straight to voicemail again.
                          
I’m way out of my depth here. Do I check up on her? Give her space? Call again? Or leave her alone? It would be so much easier if she would just answer her damn phone, so I could gauge what to do from there. My gaze lands on my pot of purple flowers on the kitchen windowsill. They’re starting to wilt a little from the cold.
                          
Fuck it.
                          
I reach for my jacket.
                          
*
                          
SCARLETT ANSWERS THE DOOR. I think she would’ve left me knocking if I hadn’t been so persistent about it. Like Eli, she looks hungover as shit, and it looks like I woke her up, so she’s in a worse mood than usual.
                          
Without the makeup and piercing, she looks surprisingly human. Except she’s glaring at me with the fire of a thousand suns.
                          
“What?” she snaps.
                          
Somehow, it’s colder in their apartment than it is outside. I ignore her scathing tone, frowning. “Why is it freezing in here?”
                          
“Our heating and cooling sucks ass,” Scarlett mutters, crossing her arms over her thick bathrobe. “Emailed our landlord a hundred times, but I don’t think he gives a shit.” She lifts a perfectly manicured brow. “Why are you here?”
                          
Right. I cut straight to the point. “Indigo. Where is she?”
                          
Scarlett makes a face, like it’s obvious. “In her room.”
                          
And sure enough, when I glance across the apartment, Indigo’s door is shut. On the other side of the apartment, there’s a haphazardly opened bottle of pills, some scattered on the kitchen counter. Scarlett follows my gaze, and then looks back over at me quickly.
                          
“That’s not yours?” I ask.
                          
She shakes her head.
                          
And then I’m walking straight ahead, right to Indigo’s room. Scarlett is right behind me. I’m about to knock when Scarlett rolls her eyes and opens the door without hesitation.