Ready Or Not (Hide and Seek #2)
Chapter 1
HARPER-RAYN
Blood pools across the grease-stained concrete of the hospital parking garage as I clutch my side, agony tearing through my body like never before, like somebody had stabbed a red-hot fire poker right through my abdomen.
My bottom lip quivers, tears sting my eyes, and my chest heaves. I don’t want to break down into heavy, broken sobs as I lie here helplessly bleeding out all alone. I can’t give in. I’m not ready to leave this world, not yet, and certainly not like this.
I press my side harder, feeling hot waves of blood pool over my fingers, and as the pressure rocks through me, I cry out, the pain too much for me to bear. Hot tears drench my face as I hastily look around, desperate for help. Desperate for anybody to find me.
“HELP!” I cry, my voice breaking, knowing that nobody is coming. “Help.”
I’m all alone.
Shift change for the hospital has already happened. Everybody is already too busy rushing around helping everyone else but me.
I’m not going to make it. I’m losing too much blood, and my body already feels so weak, but I need to survive this.
I won’t allow that asshole to get away with dressing up as my most feared hallucination and ending my life here in a dirty parking garage.
That is not my story. That is not how this ends.
I look around, frantically searching for something . . . anything that could help me. There’s not a soul in sight, just the sound of my pained cries echoing through the near-empty parking garage, but if I don’t get help soon . . . shit.
My bag lies on the ground a few feet away, the contents strewn across the dirty ground. I don’t remember dropping my bag, but I must have at some point. My phone peeks out from the top, and realizing it’s my only lifeline, I try to reach for it.
Pain shoots through my abdomen, and more blood spills over my fingers. It’s excruciating. I’ve never felt such agony in my life, but I push through it as I cry out, gritting my teeth as I roll my body, needing to crawl to get it.
Using my toes, I push against the concrete, trying to inch closer to the phone as I desperately keep pressure on my wound.
Every second counts. If I release my hold on my waist, my blood would pour out at a rate I couldn’t possibly survive, and despite the way my body grows heavier with every breath I take, I can’t give up just yet.
I need to fight through this. I need to keep going, just a little while longer.
Gritting my teeth as the pain soars through my body, I reach further, my fingers finally grasping the corner of my phone, just enough to be able to pull it back into my chest. The moment I do, my body collapses heavily against the ground.
Blood pools across the grease-stained concrete of the hospital parking garage as I clutch my side, agony tearing through my body like never before, like somebody had stabbed a red-hot fire poker right through my abdomen.
My bottom lip quivers, tears sting my eyes, as my chest heaves. I don’t want to break down into strangled, broken sobs as I lie here helplessly bleeding out all alone. I can’t give in. I’m not ready to leave this world, not yet, and certainly not like this.
I press my side harder, feeling hot waves of blood pool over my fingers, and as the pressure rocks through me, I cry out, the pain too much for me to bear. Hot tears drench my face as I hastily look around, desperate for help. Desperate for anybody to find me.
“HELP!” I cry, my voice breaking, knowing that nobody is coming. “Help.”
I’m all alone.
Shift change for the hospital has already happened. Everybody is already too busy rushing around helping everyone else but me.
I’m not going to make it. I’m losing too much blood, and my body already feels so weak, but I need to survive this.
I won’t allow that asshole to get away with dressing up as my most feared hallucination and ending my life here in a dirty parking garage.
That is not my story. That is not how this ends.
I look around, frantically searching for something . . . anything that could help me. There’s not a soul in sight, just the sound of my pained cries echoing through the near-empty parking garage, but if I don’t get help soon . . . shit.
My bag lies on the ground a few feet away, the contents strewn across the dirty ground. I don’t remember dropping my bag, but I must have at some point. My phone peeks out from the top, and realizing it’s my only lifeline, I try to reach for it.
Pain shoots through my abdomen, and more blood spills over my fingers. It’s excruciating. I’ve never felt such agony in my life, but I push through it as I cry out, gritting my teeth as I roll my body, needing to crawl to get it.
Using my toes, I push against the concrete, trying to inch closer to the phone as I desperately keep pressure on my wound.
Every second counts. If I release my hold on my waist, my blood would pour out at a rate I couldn’t possibly survive, and despite the way my body grows heavier with every breath I take, I can’t give up just yet.
I need to fight through this. I need to keep going, just a little while longer.
Gritting my teeth as the pain soars through my body, I reach farther, my fingers finally grasping the corner of my phone, just enough to be able to pull it back into my chest. The moment I do, my body collapses heavily against the ground.
A sharp ache shoots through me, and I cry out, hot tears still streaming down my face as I shamelessly try to roll onto my back.
My breath catches in my throat, and I struggle to push through the pain as my thumb hastily swipes across the screen, only my hands are so blood-soaked that the screen doesn’t recognize my touch.
“COME ON,” I growl through a clenched jaw, trying again and again.
My hands shake as my body begins to go into shock, but I push through it, my thumb swiping over and over until it finally unlocks, allowing me just the slightest flicker of hope that I might survive this.
The heaviness begins to weigh on me, and I feel consciousness starting to slip away, but I grasp onto it with whatever willpower I have left as I type 911 into my phone.
The operator’s voice comes only a moment later, and I let out a breath, realizing I won’t have to endure this agony for much longer. “911. What is your emergency?”
Knowing the flood of questions that’s about to come my way, I do my best to give the operator everything she needs.
“My name is Harper-Rayn Madden. I’m on the third floor of the Blackstone Private Hospital parking garage,” I say, my voice shaking as I try to get the words out.
“I’ve been attacked. Stabbed. Left side of the ab .
. . abdomen. I’m bleeding out. Pl . . . Please send help. ”
“Okay, Harper. You said you were in the parking garage of Blackstone Private Hospital,” she confirms as I hear her fingers tapping away on the keyboard.
“That’s right.”
“Hang in there, Harper. Help is on the way,” she says in a soothing tone that somehow makes me feel as though everything is going to be okay. That maybe I’m just being dramatic, and that bleeding out on the ground isn’t the worst thing that could be happening right now. “Is anybody around you?”
“No,” I breathe, my eyelids growing heavy. “I’m all alone.”
“You’re not alone, Harper. You have me, and I’m not going anywhere,” she says. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“Attack . . . attacked walking to my car,” I say, not having the energy to get into the details of who did this and why.
“Is your attacker still there? Are you in any immediate danger?”
I shake my head as though she can somehow see me as I struggle to hold on to consciousness. “No. No, he’s gone.”
“Do you know him? His name?”
“No,” I whimper, my body starting to give out as my hand falls away from my waist, my arms too heavy to hold over my wound. “Please hurry.”
“Help is on the way, Harper,” she says. “The hospital has been notified of your location and an emergency response team is currently en route to you. Just hang in there, and they’ll be there soon. You’ve got this, Harper. Just keep talking to me.”
“I . . . I . . .” My words fall away as I close my eyes, but the sound of feet pounding against the ground cuts through the silence. I force my lids open again, frantically searching for whoever’s coming.
A flood of blue scrubs catches my attention, and I let out a relieved breath.
As I watch my colleagues race toward me, I allow my eyes to close and the heaviness to take over.
My last grasp on reality slips away, and the only thought left inside my brain is that losing me won’t completely crush Knight the way losing him would crush me.
The pain slowly fades into a cold numbness, and as the dark parking garage gently fades to black, my last coherent thought is of Knight and how close I was to having it all.
“Oh hell no. Not on my watch,” a familiar voice says as I sense someone crashing down onto the cold concrete beside me.
Hands slam against my waist and bring the agony straight back to a fiery burn.
My eyes spring open, finding the face of my good friend Amelia staring down at me with a haunted stare.
“Keep ’em open, bitch. You’re not dying on me tonight. ”
I try to focus on Amelia, but I’ve lost far too much blood, and I zone in and out, barely aware of how the array of doctors transfer me onto a gurney.
Amelia climbs on top of me, straddling my hips as she puts her whole body weight against my wound, desperately trying to get control of the bleeding.
“You are not dying, you hear me?” she demands as the doctors rush me back through the parking garage to the emergency entrance, hopefully leading me straight into a surgical room where they can knock me the fuck out and put me out of my misery.
I grip her wrist over my wound, barely able to hold on. “Knight,” I whisper, my eyelids fluttering.
“We’ll call him,” she promises me. “But focus on me, babe. There will be time to scare the shit out of him once you’re stable.”
I nod as I start to zone out again.
“Harper!” Amelia demands. “Shit.”
And with that, my world completely slips away. Amelia’s horrified stare is the last thing I see before complete and utter darkness consumes me.