“It’s life, Alys. Sometimes, shit just happens and in large amounts.” That was Lili.

Opening my eyes, Alys was staring down into my face.

“Hey, Muffin.”

“Sweet Pea…you should never think you have to go through all of this on your own.”

“That’s what I told her,” snarked Lili.

Sighing, I sat up and pulled Alys into a hug. “I’m sorry I was so mean to you.”

“I’m not. You made me open my eyes. And you were a lot nicer about it than Lili was.”

“I’m sure.”

Alys and Lili closed ranks around me.

We hung out like the old days—smoking pot, watching music videos, and trying to make each other laugh.

On the third day, I was up and moving around, still bleeding like a stuck pig but no longer in pain. Stronger, I was able to face what was ahead of me—a battle for Phil’s sobriety. I hadn’t given up on him. But I couldn’t have gone through the miscarriage and dealt with his shit at the same time. I planned to head over there after a hearty breakfast with Alys and Lili.

Sitting on the back porch with our espressos and French toast, I felt them bolstering me, giving me the confidence I so desperately needed.

“What are we going to do?” asked Lili.

“I’m going over there, getting rid of every drop of booze in the house, and getting that motherfucker sober. It has to end. He’s going to end up like his mother if he doesn’t stop now.”

“We’ll help you,” said Alys. “You aren’t solely responsible for his ass. We’re a family.”

“Good. I could use the help.”

“I’m dropping Lewis off at the airport soon, but I’ll come straight over, okay?”

“No worries.”

Alys and I were cleaning up while Lili and Lewis headed out. We were halfway through the dishes when Sheri came barreling into the kitchen through the back door. The terror on her face filled my heart with dread.

Shaking, crying, and pale, she stammered, “Ph-Phil!”

Dropping the plate in my hands into the sink, I tore through the back door, Alys and Sheri on my heels.

“Connor’s with him!” Sheri shouted behind me. “He sent me to get you!”

My body wasn’t ready for this sort of exertion. With a belly cramp, my legs and lungs burned as I spurred myself on, adrenaline and fear helping me to pick up the pace. Through the side gate, I raced to the Plantation House. The sliding glass door was already open on his half—our half—and I burst into the house, sweating profusely and panting for breath.

“Over here!” cried Connor from behind the kitchen island.

Dashing around it, I found Connor cradling Phil on the floor, holding him up. Phil was covered in vomit, and by the gods, it looked as though he had pissed himself as well. Frozen in shock, I took in the horrific jaundiced pallor of his skin and the greasy sweat coating him. I could smell it—stomach bile, urine, and rancid body odor. His eyes were open, glassy and bloodshot.

“Oh, Phil…” I whispered. Over my shoulder, I told Alys, “Call nine-one-one.” I sounded a lot calmer than I felt. I was terrified.

“Baby Girl?”

Turning my eyes back to the scene at hand, I saw those bleak eyes looking for me. He wasn’t blind, but he was so poisoned by the alcohol that he couldn’t focus. Phil’s eyes were just black pools of endless pain.

After I got to my knees before them, Connor transferred Phil into my arms, and I cradled his wasted body into mine, not giving a shit about the vomit, the piss, or anything but the feel of my other half in my arms.

“Don’…don’ leave me,” he slurred.

“Never, babe. I’ll never leave you. I’m so, so sorry, Phil. I didn’t realize—”

“Mmmy fa-fault,” he said thickly.

Oh, shit.

I’d never been so scared in my life.

He’s so sick! He might have taken it too far this time, and there’s nothing I can do about it!

My heart…he is shattering, splintering into fragments. My mighty Dark God has fallen so low, so hard, that he might never get back up.

The thought suffocated me. It sucked me into a blackness that was neither safe nor warm, and I couldn’t accept it.

“Don’t you leave me either, Phil,” I said. “Don’t you fucking leave me here. I can’t do it.”

“Prrrmise. Live on’y fff you.”

“Ambulance is on its way,” said Alys, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Connor, grab him some clean clothes,” I said.

Within minutes, he returned with a shirt, sweatpants, and clean underwear.

“Babe, we’re going to change you now. Are you able to stand?”

Phil sighed. “Try.”

Connor, Alys, Sheri, and I held him up and stripped his foul clothes off him. His arms were slung over Connor’s and my shoulders as we made sure he didn’t bear any weight on his bad side while Sheri gave him a quick sponging and had him in his underwear and sweatpants in record time.

Phil’s head lolled back, and Connor shoved it forward. With a snort, Phil came to. He leaned, shifting his weight onto his bad side, the side I was on.

It was over in a flash. Whatever pain had shot through him woke him up fully, and he tried to catch himself on any surface. Without meaning to, his arm shot off my shoulders, whipping out and slamming me in my chest, throwing me backward. Despite the fact that Phil had never been so weak in his entire life, he was still stupid strong, and I went sailing through the air. Everything slipped into slow motion, and I even took notice of the delicate breeze caressing me from behind as I felt the sensation of soaring.

My head slammed, cracked into the wall, exploding in white-hot pain.

Shrieking like a banshee, Sheri and her mega boobs came bouncing toward me. Something warm and wet trickled down the back of my neck, and I tried to focus my vision. In slow motion, Phil went down, sliding along Connor’s body. Connor was struggling with Alys to gently lay him on the floor.

“Kenna!” cried Sheri.

My vision grew dim, like layers of black film were being laid over my eyes. The edges grew darker until there was nothing.

This blackness I could handle.

I regained consciousness before we’d even reached the hospital. The back of my head felt like it was on fire. A paramedic swooped down and started shining a light in my eyes, and I followed it.

Phil.

Turning my head to the right, I saw him. His head was turned toward me, his leaking eyes not leaving mine. His vision wasn’t focused, but he knew I was there. An oxygen mask lay over half of his face, and he was already hooked up to an IV.

“I love you,” I told him.

He closed his eyes, tears spilling from beneath his lashes.

The heart monitor beeped with the strong, steady pulse of his heart, and I relaxed. That heartbeat kept me from slipping into unconsciousness again. I held on to that gorgeous sound and didn’t let go.

When we made it to the hospital, two paramedics rushed Phil out while the third one waited outside the ambulance for another one to assist with me. Then, they took me in to see a doctor about my head wound.

It was entirely possible I was suffering from shock and a great deal of blood loss, both from the miscarriage and the near scalping. My head had punched through the plasterboard, and when I’d slid down the wall, the ragged edges had sliced open the back of my head and peeled a bit of my scalp off.

I wasn’t overly concerned. I knew it wasn’t life-threatening.

No, what I got upset about was the fact that a huge chunk of my hair was being hacked off from the back of my head, so the doctor could cleanse the wound and stitch it back together. The fucking chunk was so big that the rest of my hair wouldn’t be able to cover it up. I’d have to go and have it all chopped. Phil loved my hair.