❝𝘚𝘰 𝘐 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘥𝘰, 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩
                     𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶❞

ꨄ

                                𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗘 𝟭𝟯𝗧𝗛 , 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰
                       𝗟𝗢𝗦 𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗟𝗘𝗦 , 𝗖𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗔
                                          𝟰:𝟭𝟯 𝗣𝗠

Kiana sat slumped on the bathroom floor, her grip loose on the syringe she held. Her mind was clouded from the alcohol coursing through her veins, but she moved on autopilot, her hands steady despite her fading consciousness. She pressed the needle into her arm and pushed down on the plunger, sending the drug into her bloodstream.

Moments later, Kiana shifted, now lying flat on the cold tiles. The syringe remained embedded in her arm, forgotten. Her gaze fixed on the ceiling, her thoughts eerily still. For the first time in a long time, she felt at peace. Exhaustion washed over her, heavier than before, tugging her toward darkness. With a weak tug, she removed the syringe, letting it fall to the floor. Her eyes flicked to the wall, unfocused, as her body began to surrender.

Meanwhile, Marcus rode the elevator up to her apartment, whistling one of Kiana's songs under his breath. He held an old Led Zeppelin shirt Julien had given him to return, something of hers she'd left behind. Reaching the third floor, he stepped out and made his way to her door, unlocking it with his spare key.

"Kiana," he called, stepping inside. "I have a delivery!" Silence greeted him. He glanced around the apartment, noting her phone sitting on the counter. She had to be home. "Kiana?" he called again, setting the shirt down as a pit of unease began to form in his stomach. He started searching the small apartment.

He headed to the bathroom first, something instinctive leading him there. He already knew what he might find, but part of him refused to believe it. Maybe she was just asleep or wearing headphones. But when he opened the door, his worst fears materialized.

There she was, crumpled on the floor. Marcus froze, his heart pounding in his chest before he dropped to his knees. "Kiana!" he cried, his voice shaking. He reached for her neck, desperately feeling for a pulse, but there was nothing. Panic overtook him as he fumbled for his phone, dialing 911 with trembling hands.

—

Julien sped down the busy LA streets, already running late for Tatum and Lucy's wedding. Forty minutes had been wasted searching for her shoes, and now traffic was making her tardiness even worse. Her frustration grew as she noticed flashing lights ahead—an ambulance, several police cars, and a small crowd gathering, phones raised to film the scene.

She sighed, pulling over to the side of the road. Her irritation gave way to curiosity, and she made her way toward the commotion. What she saw next would haunt her.

It only took a glimpse of the person being wheeled into the ambulance to recognize Kiana. Julien's breath caught in her throat, her stomach plummeting. Her gaze shifted to Marcus, standing nearby. Their eyes met, and she instantly knew. The grief etched into his face mirrored her own. Around them, the crowd seemed to realize who they were, cameras turning to capture the siblings in their shared devastation.

Marcus pushed his way through the onlookers to Julien.

"Wha—what happened?" Julien stammered, though she already knew. She just needed to hear it spoken aloud.

"She—she, um, Kiana OD'd," Marcus managed to say, his voice trembling.

"Is she okay? Marcus, she has to be," Julien said, desperation lacing her words.

Marcus shook his head. "The Narcan didn't work, but they're still gonna try."

In the hospital waiting room, Marcus paced back and forth, his mind racing. He couldn't imagine a world without his sister, despite their frequent arguments. Kiana had been his best friend, his anchor. Julien sat nearby, head in her hands, silently praying for a miracle.

A doctor entered the room, his expression heavy. "Uh, sir, ma'am? Are you here for Kiana Stevens?"

Both of them turned, their hearts in their throats. "Yes, we are," Marcus said quickly. "How is she?"

The doctor let out a small sigh. "I'm sorry, but despite our best efforts, we were unable to save Kiana. I'm so sorry."

Marcus froze, his chest tightening as the words hit him like a sledgehammer. "What? You're not serious." Tears welled in his eyes, his breaths coming short and fast. "I can't—" He spun on his heel and bolted out of the waiting room, out of the hospital.

Once outside, Marcus collapsed to his knees on the pavement. Pressing his forehead against the concrete, he let out a guttural sob, the weight of his grief too much to bear. He leaned back against the wall, tugging at the collar of his shirt as though it were suffocating him.

"Fuck," he whispered, his voice shaking. "Fuck."

His vision blurred with tears, and his breaths became shallow and erratic. All he wanted was his sister. Kiana was the only person who could calm him, but she was gone. His mind replayed every argument, every warning he had given her about the dangers of her addiction. He had begged her to get help, but now he wished he had done more. He had thought she'd survive, that she'd get clean one day. He had been so wrong.

"I'm sorry," he choked out. "I'm so sorry, Kie."

The thought of calling their parents weighed heavy on him, but he knew it had to be done. After a moment, he pulled out his phone, his finger hovering over his mother's contact. Finally, he pressed it.

"Oh, Marcus," Sandra answered cheerfully. "I was just about to call you."

He didn't respond, only broke into sobs.

"Honey, what's wrong?" she asked, concern replacing her light tone.

"It's Kiana," he managed. "Is Dad with you?"

"I'm here, buddy," J.R. said, his voice steady. "What happened to Kiana?"

"She's—she's dead," Marcus whispered, the words breaking him all over again.

Silence fell on the other end, broken only by the sound of muffled sobs.

"I found her with a needle in her arm," Marcus said, his voice cracking. "I told her this would happen. I told her, but she didn't listen. I could've done more—I should've done more."

"Marcus," Sandra said through tears, "this wasn't your fault. Kiana is—was stubborn. There's nothing you could've done."

"I need to go," he said abruptly, hanging up and slipping the phone back into his pocket.

He returned to the waiting room, where Julien sat further down the hall, her face streaked with tears. Marcus sat beside her, the silence between them heavy.

"I was going to a wedding," she said after a moment. "My friends. Lucy and Tatum. I was supposed to be happy today."

"You should go," Marcus said quietly. "One of us should have some fun. I'll take care of everything."

Julien didn't argue. She stood, her head bowed as she shuffled toward the elevator. Marcus watched her go before leaning back against the chair.

He couldn't wrap his mind around it. His big sister was gone—the same sister who used to annoy him, who made him grilled cheese sandwiches, who was always there. It didn't feel real.

"How am I gonna tell her friends?" he thought to himself. "And her fans?"

Marcus didn't know how to be an only child—he didn't want to be one. For as long as he could remember, Kiana had always been there for him, just as he had been for her. Now, the thought of life without his big sister left him feeling lost and confused.

——————————————————————————
alex's corner!
so Kiana's officially dead. she was always gonna die. since the minute I started writing this fanfic I knew I was gonna kill her off
I do have a couple more chapters planned to properly end this book