sighed. At least she could feel them, pain and all. Small miracles. Gathering her strength, she cracked open her eyes, and quickly shut them again. Even the dim light of the room blinded her. Her head throbbed to a faster staccato. Fighting the urge to throw up, she opened her eyes again, slower this time. Her teeth bit into her lip, and she lifted her head and upper body.
From where she was, she could see tables were overturned, chairs stood on end and glass littered the floor. The dark cherry wood paneling had splintered off in some places, while deep crevasses and nicks took up the rest. The framed pictures had fallen off the wall and now lay on the floor, their glass broken; the smiling faces in the frames frozen and unaware of the scene around them.
Lily shook off the glass and tried to do the same to the blood that ran down her arm from small cuts and sat up fully. She turned her head, taking in more of her surroundings. A foot encased in a sensible, black Mary Jane caught her eye, and she gasped.
“Jamie?” Please let her be all right.
“I’m okay.” Jamie sat up and brushed the debris from her clothes.
Lily looked her friend over and didn’t see any blood or cuts, and she bit back a sob.
She stood up, wobbling a bit in her now not-so-cute boots, and looked around. The rest of her friends were conscious and sitting up. Relief flooded her. Becca leaned against a chair, her red curls in a tangle around her face. A large gash ran along her hairline, but the blood was only a small trickle. Amara sat underneath the bar by the stools, clutching her arm.
“Amara?” Lily croaked. “What’s wrong with your arm?”
The other woman shook her head. “I just banged it against something, but it’s not broken. That I would know.”
Lily inwardly cringed. Of course, Amara would know what a broken bone felt like; she’d had enough of them growing up, but that wasn’t something she really wanted to think about.
“H-holy cr-crap.” Faith stuttered, her black bob in a complete disorder. She had a slight cut on her face. “What was that?”
“I have no idea,” Dante answered, his face serious as he held Nadie close to him and gazed over her body, most likely checking for injuries. “Is everyone okay? Anyone hurt?”
Everyone shook their heads.
“Just cuts and bruises,” Becca said, and winced as she tried to rotate her shoulder. “Okay, lots of bruises, but I don’t think anything’s broken.”
Lily took a deep breath and surveyed the room. “How did this happen?”
Dante growled. “A freak storm. I’m going to call the paramedics; I want you girls to get looked at before you go.” He looked down at Nadie, who uncharacteristically glared at him. Lily didn’t know what was going on with the two of them, but her head hurt too much to worry about it.
“We’re fine. I just want to go home,” Eliana moaned.
“What if you have a concussion? All of you blacked out,” Dante countered.
“We’re fine. Really.” Lily said.
“I don’t care.” Dante glowered at each of them in turn. “I’m calling 911, and you’re all going to get looked at. I’m not taking any risks or no for an answer.”
With a collective sigh, they all nodded. It was the smart thing to do anyway.
Lily rolled her neck and sat down on a stool that hadn’t been broken, careful to avoid any splinters. “What about your bar? What can I do?” It wasn’t the mess that bothered her, though on a normal day she’d scream at the disorder. No, it was the fact that Dante’s pride and joy lay in a heap of broken chairs and clutter. How would he ever rebuild it the same way it was and still capture the essence that made her feel like she was at home? Yeah, he could try, but would it be the same?
Dante sighed and shook his head, walking away from Nadie, who continued to glare. “I’ll think of something. After all, it’s just stuff. The most important thing is that all of you are all right.”
“Okay, but I want to help