𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐌𝐄, deena johnson

𝐓𝐄𝐍

"DO YOU STILL LOVE HER?"

SHADYSIDE HIGH WAS NOT A PLACE YOU'D want to be in at night. The school was too quiet, its long, dark corridors filled with an eerie stillness that could make anyone uneasy. Daisy couldn't believe she was there, in the middle of this nightmare, for someone she didn't even like.

She was here for Sam.

Simon emerged from a closet, carrying a dusty lost and found bucket, which he dropped onto the ground with a loud clatter. The group gathered around, digging through the pile of forgotten clothes and random items. They needed fresh clothes, ones without a trace of Sam's blood.

"We have to decontaminate," Josh instructed them, his voice calm but urgent. "You can't have any of Sam's blood on you."

Daisy glanced at Sam, who smirked slightly, resigned to her situation. "Nothing you can do about that, can ya, Sam?"

"Nope," Sam replied, shaking her head before heading toward the girls' restroom. Deena nudged Daisy's arm, earning a sharp, annoyed look from Daisy as she rubbed the spot where Deena had hit her.

Daisy and Deena began walking toward one of the classrooms, but Josh called out, stopping them in their tracks. "Deena! Daisy! You both have to get clean too! Not a single drop!"

Sighing, Daisy placed the clothes she had grabbed down on a nearby table. They had entered a science room, the sterile smell of chemicals lingering in the air. Deena was already at the sink, scrubbing her arms clean. As she prepared her things, Deena's eyes fell on Daisy's shoulder, where blood had begun to soak through the bandage again.

"Holy shit, your shoulder," Deena said, her voice laced with concern.

Daisy turned her head slightly, confused at first, until she saw the fresh red stain spreading across the fabric. "I'm fine," she muttered, dismissing the injury with a wave of her hand.

"You're not fine," Deena insisted, moving closer to get a better look. "We still need to clean it and cover it properly."

Reluctantly, Daisy sighed and removed her shirt, placing it down on the counter. Deena guided her to sit on a nearby stool, carefully peeling off the soaked bandage from earlier. As she began to clean the wound, her hands gentle but precise, she broke the silence with a question that had been gnawing at her.

"Why do you keep being all snappy at Sam?" Deena asked, not looking up as she focused on Daisy's wound.

Daisy's eyes narrowed. "Why do you keep being all touchy with Sam?" she retorted, her voice edged with frustration.

"I'm not," Deena shrugged, avoiding eye contact. "I'm just worried about her."

"You can worry about her without touching her," Daisy said, her words cutting deeper than the wound Deena was treating. "This whole night, you've been thinking of her. The reason we're even with her now is because you wanted to visit her in the hospital—"