But when Beverly woke up again, Griffin wasn't the one by her bedside. Instead, she was pulled from consciousness by a shouting match: Two female voices were having a very intense argument.

"—cannot believe you!" Was that Alicia? "I told her you were trouble, but she insisted. 'Don't worry, Alicia, everything's fine,' and, 'Honestly, Alicia, don't worry about Deb. She's all bark and no bite.' I should've never let her share a dorm with you!"

"Oh, you're one to talk, Miss Perfect!" And that sneering voice could belong to no one else but Deb. "Did you even realize something was wrong until Griffin called you? No, you didn't, because you were out enjoying your wonderful little break! I was with her through this whole thing—"

"Because it was your damn fault!" Alicia shrieked, her voice tinged with hysteria. "First, you contaminate our campus with your vile drugs, and then you have to try and kill Bev, too. My God! Do you ever stop and think about others?!"

"Not all of us have a picture-perfect lifestyle, you stuck-up bitch!"

"You're calling me a bitch," Alicia released an Oh-my-God-I will-absolutely-murder-you laugh. "That is the greatest joke I've heard all day! Tell me, Deborah, was it worth it? I hope you're happy now that—"

"My head hurts." Beverly muttered casually, cracking her eyes open and glaring at the two women. Alicia stood on the right of Beverly's bed, looking pissed beyond belief; Deb was on the opposite side, one hand raised as though she'd been about to slap Alicia.

At Beverly's words, they both spun toward her, their gazes stunned.

"Bev?" Alicia was the first to speak. "Oh, thank God!" and then she rushed over, snatching up Beverly's hand and squeezing gently. "How are you feeling? Are you alright? I was so worried."

Deb took up Beverly's other hand, though she was quick to cover her expression, looking just as closed off as Beverly remembered; the only giveaway was the concern glittering in the girl's eyes. "Give her a break," Deb snapped. "She just woke up; she doesn't need to be interrogated like some kind of criminal."

"Right," Alicia sneered, "because you're the only criminal here."

"Stop." Beverly groaned, picking her head up and wincing when her muscles protested. "That's not helping. Where am I?"

"You're at the hospital, dummy." Deb rolled her eyes. "You've been out for four days—your idiot boyfriend has been damn annoying with all his worrying."

Beverly smiled, before her brows furrowed in confusion. "Where is Griffin, anyway?"

The two girls exchanged a look of horror (Beverly would have laughed at how similar they appeared, had she not been wondering why they looked so scared), and Alicia squeaked. "Oh, no."

Deb blew out a tired sigh, pulling her hands from Beverly and glaring at the injured girl. "Of course you had to wake up while your overprotective boyfriend was out getting lunch. God, he's going to take it out on us. You call him, Miss Perfect."

Alicia scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest and turning her nose up at Deb. "No way in hell. It's your fault Beverly is in this bed, so you can call him."

"I'm not calling him."

"Yes, you are!"

"Am not."

"Are too!"

"God, you're annoying."

"And you're an absolute bitch!"

"Tell me something I don't know, Victoria's Secret."

"Do you ever stop talking?!"

"I will when you do."

"I'll tell Griffin that you're both annoying me if you don't shut up," Beverly hissed, her normal patience having disappeared. But, hey, she figured no one would hold it against her, since her stomach and head hurt so bad.

That did the trick, and both girls went entirely silence. "Fine," Deb spat after a long pause. "I'll call him." She pulled out her phone, muttered a quick prayer, then pressed the device to her ear.

There was something similar to a growl on the other side of the line within seconds, and Beverly smiled softly. That was her Griffin, who could turn from a shy fawn into a snarling bear in the blink of an eye.

"She woke up," was all Deb said before pulling the phone from her ear and sending Alicia a knowing glance. "He hung up. My guess is that he'll be up here in about two minutes, tops."

Beverly sighed, trying in vain to look down at her stomach. She was covered in a gown and thin blanket, but her left side protruded slightly, as though covered by bandages; her hands and arms were bandaged, as well.

"What happened? I remember the car accident and stuff, but . . . why do I hurt so bad?"

Another look went between Deb and Alicia, and this one was loaded with a far deeper emotion. At the sight, Beverly felt her gut fill with dread. God, had it been that bad?

There was something about the sudden thought of, Oh, my God—did I really almost die? Did I almost leave everyone I love?

It was a terrifying realization, and Beverly's lower lip wobbled with a sudden swell of fear, confusion, and worry. What had happened after she'd fallen unconscious? Where were Dennis and Red? Where was Griffin? Why was she in so much pain?

"Shit," Deb sighed as she saw Beverly's tears. Alicia was upon her in the next second.

"Hey, Bev, don't cry. You're fine, okay? You're fine. Everything's fine, now."

But Beverly just wanted her safety blanket. "I want Griffin," she cried as the tears fell faster. "Where's Griffin?" It was childish, but Griffin always made things better, and—since her mom wasn't here to offer the ever-wonderful comfort only a mother could give—he was the only thing she wanted at the moment. "Please, can I see Griffin?"

"Shit, shit, shit," Deb continued to mutter, while Alicia ran her hands over Beverly's face and arms in an attempt to calm the girl.

"It's fine," Alicia repeated, before saying to Deb over her shoulder, "Be quiet! She almost died, and you're not helping!"

The tears only came faster. Alicia's hands were too small, her skin was too soft, her voice was too high and rushed—where was Griffin, with his calloused hands, large frame, and deep, comforting voice?

"I want Griffin," she cried again, louder this time, tears dripping into her lap. "Please, please, please, just let me see Griffin!"

"Aw, fu—" Deb was saying, while Alicia snapped another, "Shut the hell up, bitch!"

"Don't tell me what to—"

"What in the actual hell is going on here?" Came a harder, deeper voice, and Beverly smiled through her tears.

There he is.