He barreled past Neil almost hard enough to take Neil off his feet. Drake looked like he could take any of them in a fight, even with his pants around his ankles, but he was too tangled in the sheets to get up fast enough. Aaron wasn't waiting for him to figure it out. He brought Neil's racquet up and around in an underhanded swing so hard and fast air whistled through the tight strings. The head caught Drake in his temple, crushing one eye in its socket and burying deep in his skull with a wet crunch.

Drake's blood sloshed from Aaron to the wall to the curtains pulled tightly closed over the nearby window. His body tumbled off the far side of the bed, dragging the sheets with it and hitting the ground with a meaty thud. The next crash was Neil's racquet slipping from Aaron's nerveless fingers to the floor. Neil couldn't look at him, couldn't look at Drake, couldn't look at anything or anyone but Andrew.

Andrew wore only his shirt as he lay facedown on the mattress. He was covered in blood and a hundred shadows that would darken to terrible bruises. He held onto the headboard like his hands were glued to it, and he was laughing. It was muffled through the pillow but Neil heard it; the sound of it had the entire world tilting underneath his feet. He wanted to cover his ears and block it out, but he didn't have time. The pounding of footsteps somewhere behind him said Kevin was running upstairs to investigate the commotion.

Neil dove forward and climbed onto the mattress at Andrew's side. He reached over him, snagged the edge of the sheets, and gave a fierce yank to free it from Drake's corpse. Neil only had the bloody sheet partway over Andrew's body before Kevin reached them. Neil didn't know how much Kevin saw. He couldn't look back to see Kevin's reaction, but the thud said Kevin recoiled from the sight in front of him and backed right into the doorframe.

A second later Kevin was gone again. Neil heard him race back downstairs so fast it was a miracle he didn't fall and break something. He was going to get Nicky and Luther, Neil knew. He was going to call the police. Knowing doctors would be here soon helped ease a little of the lump in Neil's throat, but his insides were still crumbling to dust.

"Hey," Neil said, or thought he said. He didn't recognize his own voice. "Andrew. Andrew, are you—"

He couldn't ask if Andrew was okay. He wasn't that cruel. He would beg Andrew to stop laughing if he could but every word he spoke threatened to set off his gag reflex. All he could do was hang on, fingers knotted in the sheet he'd gotten up to Andrew's shoulders.