Mandy fell to the floor, bleeding with her eyes shut.
'Amanda!' Dylan stood to approach the limp body.
'Put some clothes on, or you're joining your girlfriend,' Sage warned.
He hurriedly wrapped a towel around his waist. 'Can I go there now?'
Sage shook her head. 'No. Let her die, just like my virtue.'
'I'll have you know—' Dylan took a step forward. '—that you look so, so delicious with cruelty in your eyes and no clothes on.'
Embarrassed, she noticed her exposure. 'You're sick.'
She ran into Mandy's closet and grabbed the nearest green top and black jeans she could find. She also put them on in the closet.
By the time she'd emerged, neither Dylan nor Amanda's hopefully dead body was anywhere in the room.
Outside, a car roared into the ignition.
Sage scampered out of the house and met an electric-blue convertible driving away.
Lucky her; she already had Mandy's car keys.
Having started the car, she chased Dylan through typical London traffic, screaming pedestrians and cyclists, and a load of speed bumps—all to meet him at Graceville Hospital.
But despite the fuel burnt, Dylan was out of his car with Mandy over his shoulders before she could find a good parking spot.
'Ugh.' Sage stopped the car near a handicap spot and ran after him.
In Emergency, she met Dylan barking orders at the nearest lab coat.
'Amanda Bailey Kyle, do you fucking get it?' he rhapsodized. 'Attend to her right now, or this won't be the last you'll hear from Dylan Boris Anthony.'
'D-D-Dylan Anthony? That Dylan Anthony?' Lab Coat Guy asked, trembling.
'No, Lindsay bloody Lohan.' Dylan dropped Mandy in one of those hospital carriage thingies. 'Take the fucking body into the fucking ward!'
Lab Coat Guy repeated Dylan's exact words. A group of people dressed in plastic green gowns rolled the carriage thingy into the ICU. Lab Coat Guy followed a nanosecond afterward.
Dylan rubbed his temples, hyperventilating. 'It's fine. It's all fine.'
Sage wasn't sure of how to approach him, not with his face all red and his hair looking as if he'd clawed it too many times.
But when he looked her way, his anger just poofed. 'Please tell me you didn't see any of that.'
Out of shock, she simply nodded, too scared to speak.
'Well, I could've been worse. Like something that happened a few months ago—at least I can laugh about it now.' Dylan said. 'You might have heard about it, I'm sure.'
Sage shook her head.
'I thought you just saw everything that happened,' Dylan said. 'Surely, you must have guessed who I am from that.'
'Nuh-uh,' she replied.
He blinked twice. 'Hmm. That makes severing ties with you a lot easier. I'll guess you won't press charges?'
'As long as I never hear from you again.'
He held out a hand.
Sage felt skeptical. She hadn't shaken hands with a male since she was nine. She could almost feel her mother's piercing, spiteful gaze…
She's not here. Just do it and don't look like a total freak, she told herself.
She shook his hand, and let go immediately. She couldn't touch a man for long, not with her mom's words as fresh in her mind as all those years ago. 'It's been terrible knowing you. Have fun forgetting me.'
Dylan drew her back by the wrist. Not an inch of space remained between them after that.
'Can we be friends at least?' he pleaded. 'I can't possibly forget you.'
'Let go of me,' Sage said, battling with Dylan's surprisingly good grip on her.
He didn't. 'As you may have noticed, I've tried. It's not working. Let's try being closer for a change. If I get tired of you, then I'll really let you go.'
She rudely stepped on his foot and walked, as fast as her legs could carry her, to the wall just by the staircase. She caught her last glimpse of him and saw a beautiful man with a sad face, a blue pinstripe suit, and a lot on his devilish mind.
Sage harrumphed. How shameless. His girlfriend had been hospitalized, but he had the guts to touch her even more than he already had. What would she tell her mother? What if the ordeal caused her some sort of backlashes like venereal disease or pregnancy or emotional turmoil?
The farther she got from him, the better it would be.
The end, right?