Page 247 of Hide and Keep

Unfortunately, there still isn’t much to go on.

It’s good that he’s puking it up. It would’ve been better if he puked sooner, like three hours ago.

Has he been puking that long?

I fight the urge to fall back into a heap on the floor. Crue would be strong for me. He would watch a damn how-to video for me. He would do whatever he needed to in order to ensure I was taken care of.

Even consume bad fish.

Leaving out his bedroom door—that randomly has a chair wedged under the knob—I run to the kitchen and grab a box of garbage bags, multiple waters, a bottle of pain reliever, and the activated charcoal I added to my list after seeing a viral post about brushing your teeth with it but never actually tried it. In my sprint back, I hear multiple pipes working at the same time and let a smile loose. He got them.

After placing the water and pain reliever on his nightstand, I empty Crue’s laundry basket, then fit the garbage bag over it before setting it next to his bed. I read that was better than a bowl. Much smaller of a splash zone.

Ew.

Now I have to figure out how to get the activated charcoal in him. If it were me, he would hold me down, stick it in my mouth, then cover my mouth until I swallowed it. He’s a lot bigger than I am though. He could flick me off like a flea.

Even when he’s sick and weak?

I don’t really want to find out. He’s already going through enough.

I bring my phone up and search the best ways to take activated charcoal, thankfully finding a much simpler solution—mixing it in water. It does say not to take any other medications for a couple hours after consumption, so while I pour in a healthy dose, I hide the bottle of pain reliever in Crue’s top drawer, that way it’s not even a possibility.

I think fluids are about all he’s going to be able to handle for a while anyway.

Returning to his bathroom, I don’t hear anything save for groaning, so I put my ear against the door.

“Crue? Can I come in?”

More groans are my answer…that I choose to interpret as a yes.

Inside, I find Crue sprawled out on the floor. His forehead’s sweaty and his complexion is greener than his eyes. My bodyguard is fucking green!

I instantly drop beside him, my eyes already leaking.

“I need you to drink this.”

He weakly pushes away the bottle in my hand, but I don’t care. He’s always pushy. Always making me compromise. He can do as I say this one time.

Not giving him a choice, I lift his head with a hand and bring the bottle to his mouth, pouring a trickle between his lips until they part enough for the water to get in.

He sputters, spraying black water everywhere, even at me.

My face wet with tears and spit, I press it to his, our noses touching as I say, “I need you to swallow it, okay? It’s supposed to help.”

“No,” he moans with a sharp head turn that almost pulls him out of my palm. “Can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” I readjust my hold on him, propping his head in the crook of my elbow. “You have to.”

“Uh-uh.”

“Damn you, Crue. You can’t tell me ‘no.’”

“Go away.” He twists his head again but doesn’t get anywhere this time.

I tighten my hold on him anyway, and sob, “I can’t.”

Why is he pushing me away? I’m trying to help.

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