Chapter 78
CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
SAKURA
After tearing off my shoes, I ran on the concrete to the pool. Shards of glass slipped into my feet, sending shocks of pain through my body, but I continued forward and dived into the freezing cold water.
While they had a heated pool, Georgina hadn’t put the heater on before she dumped his body into it. I hated that fucking bitch so much. She didn’t care about him in the slightest and had decided to come back to Redwood just to kill him?!
Pumping my legs back and forth like Dad had tried to teach me multiple times, I opened my eyes underneath the water and raced to grab Callan’s sinking body. After taking hold of him, I swam to the surface and gasped for air, spitting out mouthfuls of water.
With all my strength, I pulled him to the low end of the pool. When I reached the stairs, I flipped him over so I could see his face, wrapped my arms underneath his shoulders, and tugged him out of the water.
Every stair I climbed, he became heavier and heavier, his clothes completely soaked. Once his entire body lay on the concrete, I collapsed by his side and opened his mouth, beginning what I knew of CPR.
I pounded down on his chest in a steady rhythm for a few beats, then pressed my lips over his and pushed air into his body. My hands were shaking, my heart thumping.
He couldn’t die on me. He couldn’t fucking die on me.
“Callan, please,” I sobbed, tears streaming down my cheeks. “Please, stay with me.”
I continued for what felt like hours, trying to revive him, sweat dripping down my forehead. I needed to call an ambulance or someone, but I didn’t have time to stop. After sucking in a sharp breath, I pushed more air into his lungs.
This time, he spit up some water, but didn’t open his eyes.
I rested back on my heels, wiping the beads of sweat off my forehead with the back of my wrist and trying to find some hope that his body had reacted to the CPR. But still, he had lost blood—and a lot of it.
My gaze dropped from his mouth to his abdomen, where blood had completely stained his shirt. What the hell did she do to him? Stab him? His shirt was cut in multiple areas around his abdomen, which meant that he had multiple wounds.
Wind whipped around the trees in his backyard, giving us both goose bumps. If I kept him out here, he would get worse. I was already shivering, and his lips were turning blue. Did that mean he was dying? Dead already? He had a faint pulse.
So, I lifted as much of his upper body as I could and dragged him to the back door. More glass slipped into the bottom of my bare feet. I kicked the shards off our path, my blood staining the ground, and tugged him into his bedroom.
Once I closed the door and locked it, I laid Callan onto his bed. I pulled off his shoes and socks, then undid his belt and took off his wet pants too. And when I undid the buttons of his shirt that he had worn to school yesterday, I saw all the stab wounds in his abdomen and thigh.
Tears welled up in my eyes, threatening to spill over. What the hell did she do to him? How can she be so cruel? What happened to Callan? Did she see me in the cameras last night and decide to kill him? Is this my fault?
After gulping down the pain—because I didn’t have time since Callan was dying—I continued to pull off his clothes. Once I finished, I grabbed a medical kit from the bathroom and did my best to patch up his wounds. Then, I wrapped him in blankets.
And I waited. And I waited. And I waited.
My stomach was in knots. Tears were racing down my cheeks. I couldn’t stop bawling.
This isn’t fair.
Sitting on the bed next to him, I wondered if I should bring him to the hospital or call someone. I didn’t know if I would be able to drag his body all the way to the car. And what the hell would I say when I got there? Should I call Imani to talk to her mother? She was a doctor.
I slammed my hand into my pocket and pulled out my wet phone, my lips pulling into a frown. I pounded on the screen with my fingers, desperate for it to turn on so I could call someone, but the water had completely ruined it.
“No!” I sobbed, lying down next to him and wrapping my arm around his shoulders.
I needed to do something, so I leaped back up and immediately collapsed to the ground as the shards of glass slid deeper into my feet. A yelp of pain escaped my lips, and I found myself sitting on my ass and staring at my bloody feet.
I glanced down to see shards of glass sticking out of them. Wincing, I pinched the glass between my fingers and pulled out a huge chunk. Blood oozed out and onto his bed, but I continued tugging pieces out of my flesh.
There were so many little shards that I didn’t even know if I had gotten them all, but I reached for the med kit and pulled out the last few pieces of gauze to wrap my feet. I twirled the material around the wounds over and over.
Tears fell from my eyes, and I leaned against the bed, shaking my head.
I didn’t have a usable phone. Callan’s phone was dead. I didn’t know where the hell his wife’s phone was. And nobody had a house phone anymore, especially not in Redwood. But I needed … God, I needed to do something.
“Please,” I whispered, feeling so defeated. “Please stay alive, Callan.”