"This is all my fault."

"Stop saying that, Max." Dana reached over to slap my arm. "It's not your fault. We'll just get you home and you tell me what she's doing, okay? I'm worried about her too. She looked like she was ready to have a panic attack…"

"I should've been with her the whole time, Dana. I didn't stay at the party anyway."

"It's not your fault, Max."

An uncomfortable silence fell on us. Come on, Chloe. You're strong.

She sighed, pressing her lips together, "Are you going to need help?"

"Help with what?"

"If she's drunk, I wouldn't want her to be violent and hurt you."

I've seen her drunk. She's not an angry one at all. She used to be, but now she's the saddest drunk on Earth.

"I think I'll be fine." I think she's just crying. She's just crying, Max. You can handle that.

"I'm trusting you." She wasn't confident in her reply, but nodded.

We arrived at the apartment, hurriedly saying goodbye and running into my building, fumbling for my key. I ran into my door, desperately trying to get in, only to fall into the ground. I landed on my arm, but I didn't care.

Something about the room felt off. The atmosphere was different. It felt heavy. I could barely breathe. My ears were throbbing against my brain. My eyes shot around, trying to find what was wrong.

On the dining room table, there was a tipped over, completely empty bottle of Jack Daniel's. On top of that, there was a trail of beer cans following into the bedroom. I froze in place.

She's okay, Max. She has to be. Maybe she just… Maybe she's still okay. She's okay. She's not poisoned or… dead. She's okay!

I felt myself shut down, but with heavy feet, I went closer to the door. She's fine. She's alive.

My shaky hand reached up and pushed the door, squeaking as it opened. When light started to pour into the dark room, all I saw was Chloe, lying on her side, surrounded by more drinks—some were completely empty, others were still spilling out. I could hear her breath was uneven, her fist was grabbing at her hair, and her feet kept crossing and rubbing against each other.

"C-Chloe?"

Her voice screamed. She launched a brown, glass bottle at me. I ducked, running for cover to my desk. The glass shattered, staining the wall. I was frozen again, pressing into the wooden floor.

I waited for more glass to break. I waited to be grabbed. Or yelled at. Or hit. Or all.

She was crying. She hung off the bed, her weak hands touching the floor. I saw her tears hit the ground.

"Chloe," I crawled over, grabbing her wrists, "I'm here. I'm here."

"Rachel's gone, Max!" She shot up, ripping out of my grip. She lunged at me, digging her nails into my arms and slamming me into the floor. "She's gone!"

Her eyes were bloodshot; her tears dripped onto my face.

"Why is she gone, Max?" She slammed me into the ground during every word. "Why. Is. She. Gone!"

She cried more, pressing her forehead into my shoulder, staining my shirt. Her voice sounded strained and rough. Her grip and her weight was impossible to get out of—moving made her grip tighter.

"I'm killing that motherfucker, Max!" She slammed me again. Her face was close to mine, reeking of beer. "That fucker who took Rachel away!"

My phone fell out of my pocket, trying to press anywhere on my screen to call on emergency. Chloe is one, Rachel is two. Two. Don't fail me, memory.

My fingers had to press on the screen, trying to find the speaker.

"Hello?" I heard Rachel's voice. "Hello? Max? Are you there?"

"Rachel?" Chloe let me go, but she was still on top of me. I was able to grab my phone again and turn the speaker off. I heard "Chloe?" as I pulled it to my ear.

"What's wrong?" She added, worry in her tone. Chloe fell over next to me, staring up at the ceiling.

"She may have drunk a whole six-pack… and another six-pack… and a bottle of Jack."

It was silent, uncomfortably silent. I wasn't sure if Rachel was fuming with anger or if she was disappointed, but she was feeling something. Chloe has started sniffling and a flood of tears were coming out of her eyes. Her lips were quivering and keeping her face from contorting.

"Hello?" I said again.

It was still quiet. I could hear something on her side: a fan.

"Take your laptop out right now," she said, "and let me talk to her. Let me talk to her right now while you do that."

Her voice wasn't like how she was when she was mad. It was the same low and monotonous tone, but I could tell it was more on the gentle side. I left it by her ear, hearing, "Baby, I'm here" before I stood up, in a tender, calm voice. I threw open my bag and took my laptop out, cracking it open and calling Rachel on Skype. It took a moment before I saw Rachel, hair in a messy bun and holding her phone to her ear, weakly smiling and waving at me. She looked like she was lying down too. Behind her, it showed closed blinds and curtains, making her room dark, though light shown at the bottom. The blinds and strands of her hair moved; that was from the fan I heard. I couldn't say anything, waving back. She hung up on her phone and she waited for me to bring the camera to Chloe. As I did, Chloe weakly turned to the screen and her tears turned happy, her lips turning into a trembling mix of a smile and a frown.

"I'm here." Rachel reassured. The volume was still high from the movie I was watching. I smiled at them, knowing why she was lying down still. She wanted it to be like she was lying with her. She made her room dark like our night. As if she was still here.

I stood up to leave the room, sleeping on the couch was something reserved for me.

"I'm not going anywhere." I heard Rachel say before I closed the door.

I grabbed the beer cans off the ground, tossing them into the trash, along with the bottle of Jack. A shiver went down my spine from touching it. Fuck, tomorrow, I'm just gonna sleep in and get all of today out of me.

I knocked out as soon as I lied down on the world's shittiest couch. It was the only time it was comfortable.