35. Darius
What is it that alerts me to something being wrong?
I wish I knew, but it’s as though someone speaks inside my head, telling me to go to her.
I can’t do that alone.
“Something’s wrong with Laney,” I tell Cade.
He frowns at me. “What? How do you know that?”
“I have no idea, but I do. We have to go to her trailer. Now.”
I’m already on my feet. If Cade won’t take me, I’ll have to call a cab, but I’d prefer it if the rest of my family came. I need their eyes, especially if my instinct is right.
“Can you get her on the phone?” Cade asks.
Reed is back from the police station, so he tries. I can hear the distant ringing, the way no one answers.
“Fuck,” he curses. “The press—will they follow us if we go to her?”
“I don’t give a fuck if they do,” I reply. “We need to go now. We’re wasting time.”
I sense Cade’s stare.
“You think she’s done something stupid,” he says.
I don’t know what to say, but yes, I do. I feel it in my bones.
Reed is on his feet. “I’ll call an ambulance. They’ll get there faster.”
“You don’t know that,” Cade comments. “We should go.”
I’m already moving. “Let’s call them on the way.”
Reed drives like I’ve never experienced before, the tires screeching. I’m thrown side to side in the seat as he negotiates the traffic. His hand hits the horn almost the entire way.
We approach Laney’s trailer.
“A light is still on inside, but the drapes are drawn and there’s no sign of her,” Cade describes.
I know he’s doing it for my benefit.
“What about the reporters?” I ask.
“No sign of them. They must have gotten a call about some other poor bastards they can tear apart.”
Cade throws himself out of the car before it’s even stopped moving. I want to follow, but it’s not so easy for me. I hate it when I’m reliant on someone else to find my way around, but I don’t know exactly where Reed has stopped the car.
“Wait,” I tell my father. “I need to follow you.”
He pauses long enough to let me take his shoulder, and together we hurriedly follow Cade.
The screen door swings open with a creek and bangs shut again.
I negotiate the steps to the front door.
“Oh, fuck!” Cade yells.
The iron tang of blood is in the air, combined with stale alcohol.
“Oh, God.” Reed leaves me and, I assume, rushes to her side. “Laney? Wake up, baby-girl. Stay with us. Help is on its way.”
I’m desperate. “What is it? What’s she done?” It’s easy enough to find my way around the trailer. There isn’t much to it, after all. “Where is she?” I demand.
“In the bed,” Reed says, his voice choked.
My blood runs cold. Are we too late? The thought of Laney being dead opens a giant chasm in my chest, and for a dizzying moment, I think I’m going to fall into it.
How will any of us continue if she’s gone?
Suddenly, the thought of never playing the violin to a crowd again doesn’t seem the slightest bit important.
I’d give it up in an instant if it meant saving her.
I follow the sound of my father’s voice to be at her side.
“Where the fuck are those paramedics?” Reed says.
“Motherfucker!” Cade smashes his fist against the wall and lets out a roar of rage and pain.
I understand exactly what he’s feeling. I want to do the same. How have we let this happen? We should have been here with her. We never should have given her the chance to do this terrible thing.
“Should we take her to the hospital ourselves?” I wonder.
From outside comes the rise and fall of sirens in the distance.
“They’re coming,” Reed says, his relief clear in his tone. “Help is coming.”
I go to the side of her bed, desperate to make contact with her. I drop to my knees on the floor and reach out to her.
She’s still warm to the touch. I lower my cheek to her mouth and feel the heat of her breath.
She’s still breathing. I take her wrist, my fingertips meeting with wet stickiness.
In my mind, I’m building a picture. She hurt herself.
How could she do that? Doesn’t she know that she’d take all our hearts with her if she died?
I turn my head away from her to address the others. “We need bandages, to stop the bleeding.”
“I know where she has some,” Cade says.
His footsteps slowly fade as he disappears into one of the other rooms.
I hear the brush of material on skin as Reed pulls up her sleeve. The breath of horror on the air as he curses once more. “What the fuck?”
“What is it?” I demand to know.
“There are other cuts. She’s been hurting herself.”
I cover my mouth with my hand. We’ve failed her so badly.
Cade returns with the bandages, and he nudges me out of the way so he can wrap her wrist.
“I thought we were doing the right thing by staying away,” Reed says. His voice is broken. I hear the anguish in his tone. He’s blaming himself, too.
We all are.
The sirens grow louder. I hear Cade’s footsteps as he rushes out to them.
“This way!” he yells. “She’s through here.”
Strangers are in the trailer now. Paramedics. They’re brusque and efficient, moving us out of the way with requests of “Give us space, please.” There are too many of us in this small space.
They’re taking her to the hospital.
“I’m going to ride with her,” Reed says. “Cade, can you drive you and Dax? I’ll meet you there.”
“Yeah, of course.” He sounds stunned.
Then they’re gone, and it’s just me and my brother left in the blood-soaked trailer.