Pallid

The first time she tries it is a Thursday afternoon. Except, you know, she says she wasn't really trying, and that it was just an accident, but you don't do things like that by accident.

It's a couple of days after Little Bethy's party.

I'm only out for a couple of minutes, I swear. I go down to the paint supply shop a couple blocks away and buy new brushes because mine are starting to wear out and I feel like treating myself for once. She's been looking kind of sad for the last couple of days, and whenever I try asking her about it, she just tells me she's fine or to go away.

I want to do something nice, so I go to the market on the corner and buy some things for dinner, and some flowers, and some candles too, while I'm at it.

I mean, it's been a while since we've done anything nice, and I figure that it won't hurt to just stop fighting for a night.

When I get back, everything seems pretty normal.

The faucet in the bathroom is running, like it was before I left, which normally just means that she's taking one of her absurdly long baths. I set my things down and stare at the groceries, trying to think of something I could make that she'd actually eat. I settle on pasta, because everybody loves pasta and it's easy to make anyway.

I don't really think that there's anything wrong until I realize that she's been in there for the better part of an hour. I walk over to the door and knock on it quietly.

"Celeste?"

Now, normally, I'd get something like, "I'm kind of busy, Rhys," or, "What'd you want?" Sometimes, she'd just throw something at the door and I take that as my cue to just leave her be. But this afternoon is strange because she doesn't say or throw anything at all.

"Celeste?" I knock again, twisting the doorknob. "You okay?"

I believe in privacy, and I don't think there are really many excuses to violate it, but I'm just starting to get worried about her and she's been acting so strangely as of late that I don't know what else to do but push the door open with my shoulder until it gives.

The tub is flooded and water is starting to pour over the edges and onto the floor.

Everything after that's a little blurry.

I remember trying to pull her out of the tub and that she's just so damn slippery and small so I can't. And then I shut the water off and climb in there with her. Her eyelashes are long and soft and wet and her skin is cold and pale and she's not moving.

"Celeste," I murmur in her ear, patting her cheek. "Celeste." I start rubbing her back and I don't want to cry but I'm afraid I will, 'cause this just can't be happening to me right now and she wouldn't do this and god, how could I not have seen this coming? "Celeste, please!" I try to sit up properly and she's between my legs, head lolling onto my shoulder. "Celeste!" I start trying to do a rather awkward Heimlich, and it scares me a little, how thin she's really getting and how bony she feels.

She starts coughing and choking, gasping as she sits up a little, moving her head to the side. A bunch of little pink pills start leaving her mouth, plopping into the cold water. She's coughing and crying and I don't know what's happening and none of this makes any sense. She slumps against me, breathing raggedly between weeps. I reach over and grab a towel from the rack and pick her up, trying not to slip. I step out and wrap her in it, all confusion and shaky fingers. She stares at the floor, wiping her nose with a trembling hand. She leans into me and I pick her up, because I don't know what else to do.

The bed creaks a little as I set her down. She sits on the edge and draws patters on the floor with her toes. I pour her a glass of water and sit next to her. We sit in silence and I take her hand and she sighs, resting her head on my shoulder.

"It was an accident," she mumbles quietly.

"You swallowed all that by accident?"

She nods.

"No, you didn't. We need to talk--"

"I'm tired, Rhys," she murmurs. "I'm so tired." She finishes the rest of her water, then leans back on the bed, sighing softly. She tugs on my hand. "I just wanna go to sleep."