Maddy and you had been tight since forever. Not that you really thought about ”best friends” the way she did. She called you her real best friend. You didn’t really get that status thing, but you got her. That was enough. Ride or die. That was the title you accepted.

After the carnival, after Nate got too rough and left marks she would rather no one saw, you were the only one she trusted to fix it. God, you could have been a professional makeup artist with the skill you had hiding bruises and making pain invisible. Not because you wanted to, but because that’s what loyalty looked like between the two of you.

You had fallen asleep on the couch, half-buried in a blanket, when a knock woke you. Squinting at the clock, you groaned but forced yourself up to see who it was. It was Maddy. “What are you doing here? It’s literally dark outside,” you said.

Maddy didn’t answer your sarcasm. She stepped inside anyway, turtleneck pulled up, hoodie over it, sunglasses hiding her eyes. She pointed at her neck without a word. “I need your help,” she said.

You froze for a second, taking in the bruises blooming along her skin, the evidence of the fight she refused to admit to. Nate had left his mark at the carnival, and she had tried to cover it up herself, only failing to erase the memory that came with it.

You rubbed your eyes, exhaling. “It’s way too dark for this right now.”

“Could you fucking help me or not?” she asked, voice sharp but tired.