I can still hear Isaac next door, screaming and thrashing, clawing at the locked door. I should help him – I don’t know how, but I need to do something. He’s in pain. But if I open the door, try to give him something to dull the pain, he’ll just fight me. I know, because when Eva tried to help him earlier, she left with a thick ring of bruises around her arm.

All we can do is leave him to fight it out. The withdrawal has made him too volatile, too unpredictable; a huge change from his catatonic state earlier.

I leave my room. I can’t bear to stay here anymore, listening to Isaac suffer.

I go downstairs into the kitchen, which is little more than a cupboard with a fridge and a few counters shoved onto the back wall. It smells of cheap coffee – Cameron must have been in earlier. He’s been drinking more than usual. Stress, I suppose. I grab a clean mug and fill it with the already made coffee from the machine, taking a tentative sip. Still hot.

“I checked on Zach and Maddie earlier,” someone speaks from behind me, and I jump, spilling boiling coffee on my arm.

“Shit!” I hiss, nearly dropping the mug.

“Sorry! I thought you heard me coming,” Fiona gasps, grabbing my hand to inspect it. “Put it under cold water.”

I smile tiredly, and it’s probably quite obvious it’s forced. “It’s fine; I’m just jumpy,” I reassure, doing as she instructed, turning on the tap. “How are they doing? Zach and Maddie.”

Fiona shrugs, fiddling with her hands absently. “Maddie’s holding up okay, she’s just shaken. Zach’s doing better than I thought but… I don’t know. I think he’s pretending to be more okay than he is.”

I’m not surprised. He’s come a long way in the last few weeks, but he’s still just a kid, still easily hurt. I nod, eyes downcast.

Putting a gentle hand on my shoulder, Fiona looks at me. Her dark eyes are wide and concerned. “How about you? You’ve not spoken to anyone in forever.”

I’m the first to glance away. The way she’s staring at me; the worry so clear on her face, I feel bad for making her feel like that.

“Fine,” I reply tensely. It’s a lie, and she probably knows it. “It’s Isaac I’m worried about. Cameron said the withdrawal could kill him.”

At the mention of Cameron’s name, Fiona pulls away. She sniffles and turns away for a moment, wiping her eyes.

Awkwardly I look away, at my mug of coffee sitting alone on the countertop.

“Come on, it’s time to change your bandage. I’ll help.” When Fiona faces me again, her eyes are damp, but no tears fall. She blinks a couple of times, and then all signs of grief are gone. She carefully loops her arm through mine, careful not to hurt me, and leads me into the cramped living room. “I’ll grab the first aid kit, you sit down.”