Chapter 11 Grace
CHAPTER ELEVEN
GRACE
My phone rings in the middle of the night, scraping at the walls of my subconscious, demanding I wake.
For a few seconds I lay there unable to open my eyes, held by the chains of sleep and the warmth of my blanket cocoon.
On the fourth ring, my adrenaline spikes, and I shoot straight up in bed, my heart hammering and vision blurred as I reach blindly through the dark in search of my phone.
The only person whose call is allowed to bypass my ‘do not disturb’ is Saffron—and she’d only wake me at this time of night if something was seriously wrong.
Broken sobs echo through the speaker as soon as I answer, the sound digging beneath my skin and tightening a clawed fist around my heart.
“Saf? What’s wrong, babe?” When she doesn’t answer, I throw the covers off and jump out of bed, struggling to gain my bearings as I look around the darkened room in search of my shoes. “Saffron, talk to me. What happened?”
More broken sobs crackle through the speaker, and I pull the phone from my ear to pull up Saffron’s location tracker.
She’s nowhere near her apartment, and when I zoom in on the little red dot to scan the area, my heart drops into my stomach.
It looks like she’s sitting on the sidewalk beneath an overpass—but how or why she’s there, I have no idea. All I know is my best friend needs me.
“I’m on my way, Saf. Hold on.”
Shoving my feet into a random pair of shoes, I snag my keys off the counter and rush out of my apartment, not bothering to lock the door behind me. As I take the stairs down, I check her location on my phone, noting she’s only about a mile from my apartment.
I could try to call a car to take me to her, but at this time of night, I’d get there faster by running—so that’s what I do. I look like an absolute madman racing down the sidewalk dressed in my rubber-duck pajamas and mismatched shoes, and I receive quite a few strange looks from people I pass by.
The temperature has dipped well below the thirties, and though my blood is pumping hard enough to keep me warm, the cold night air still manages to sneak beneath my thin layer of clothing, chilling me to the bone.
By the time I near Saffron’s location, my nose feels like it’s going to fall off, my fingers are numbed, and I can’t stop the chattering of my teeth.
Breathing hard, I come to a stop beneath the overpass—the exact spot the GPS was last able to locate Saffron’s phone. Only, she’s not here.
“Saffron!” I frantically search the shadows for any sign of her. “Saffron, where are you?”
I look down, despair hardening in my gut as I realize that the call has dropped. I try to dial her back, but it does straight to voicemail, leaving me with a bitter taste in my mouth and a heart full of dread.
“Saf!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “Saf!”
I’m about to lose it when a small noise breaks out to my right. I whip my head, noting a row of tall bushes lining the side of the road, obscuring my sight. I clamp my mouth shut, listening intently—and then I hear it again. A small moan, and a rustle of leaves.
Saffron.
My vision tunnels as I run toward the bushes, tearing through the bramble like a wild animal in search of my friend. “Saffron!” I yell. “I’m here, Saffron! I’m here!”
“Grace…”
My heart stops as Saffron’s weak voice punctuates the night air, and I fight harder to make it to her. “Hold on, babe! I’m almost there!”
I emerge on the other side of the bushes, so ready to find Saffron I hadn’t prepared myself for what I would find.
My knees go weak at the sight of the thick puddle of blood surrounding her naked body.
Her skin is covered in wounds—some deep and oozing, others shallow—and all of them are crusted with a thick layer of mud.
Saffron’s breathing comes in wet, labored gasps, all of her effort going into staying alive, to keep her heart pumping for one more beat. One look at her, and I know—she will die if she doesn’t get help soon.
My fingers shake as I dial the number for the police, only for my hand to drop back to my side with a defeated sob. The police won’t come in time—if they come at all. No one is going to save her. No one cares. No one but me.
Sucking in a deep breath, I crouch next to Saffron’s body, my bare knees pressing into the cool, blood-soaked dirt. “I’m here, Saf. You’re safe.”
A weak moan falls from Saffron’s bloodied lips, and bile rises in my throat at the sight of her.
Whoever did this didn’t just cut her up—they carved into her face.
A great majority of the blood is stemming from a deep gash on her face—so deep and gnarly that I can’t yet tell if her left eye is still intact.
My stomach flips, threatening to expel its contents, but I ball my fists and fight against the feelings warring inside me.
Shove. It. Down.
I take a deep breath in through my nose, putting my emotions in a box and locking it tight. Only when I’ml absolutely calm do I focus on the situation at hand, racking my brain for any medical knowledge I’ve picked up over the years.
She’s still breathing—albeit weakly—and her heart is beating, so I don’t need to try CPR. But the blood… If I don’t stop it soon, she will cease to breathe. And I don’t have anything on me but my thin pajamas and keys.
Throwing modesty to the wind, I rip off my pajama top, baring my breasts to the chill night air. Goose bumps cover my skin as I begin ripping the fabric into manageable strips, but I can barely feel the cold anymore.
The first strip I pack into the stab wound in her side, hoping to stop some of the worst of the bleeding. The next, I press to the gash on her face, tying it at the back of her head as tight as I can without hurting her.
I work on her arms and legs, tying off sections of my shirt around the shallow wounds. The whole time, Saffron fights and tries to pull away from me—-the pain too much for her to handle in her current state—but I refuse to let up.
“We’re almost done, Saf. I promise. It’s gonna be okay.” But even as I say the words, a pit of despair hollows out my stomach. Her wounds are so severe, and I’m basically plastering Band-Aids over her stab wounds. This will hold her for a while, but not forever.
Once the worst of the cuts are covered and the blood flow slows, I sit back on my heels, grabbing Saffron’s arms and attempting to get her to sit up.
No matter how hard I pull, Saffron won’t budge.
Her eyes keep rolling in her head, and I know it’s not the blood loss making her loopy. She’s been drugged.
“Please.” Frustrated tears well in my eyes as I attempt to help her up one more time. “You have to get up, love. You have to.”
Saffron shakes her head weakly, a pained moan brushing over her lips as her eyes close fully. I shake her, screaming in her face, but she’s stopped responding altogether now.
“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”
I can’t move Saffron. It’s impossible. And if I can’t get her to a hospital, she’ll die.
My hope is dying when the rumble of a car engine makes its way to my ears.
Without thought, I jump to my feet, pushing through the bushes so they might spot me.
I run into the road waving my arms wildly, shirtless, screaming, and covered in blood and dirt.
The taillights come closer, stopping just in front of my half-naked body, and I sink to my knees in relief.
The driver side door opens, and a man steps out—though, I can’t clearly see his face from the beam of the lights.
“Please, sir!” I jab my finger in the direction of the bushes where Saffron lies. “My friend—she’s dying. Please, please, help me. I’ll do anything.”
The man stops in front of me, and I jut my chin up to look him in the eyes. Only, there are no eyes to speak of. No features at all—just a menacing, bloodred mask.
“Anything? I think we could work something out.”
I stumble back on hands and knees, the air rushing out of my lungs as I stare up at the man from my nightmares. Red 7.
“How—how did you find me?” I reach up to cover my breasts as horror rips through me. “How…?”
“Tracker. Your phone,” he says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. Red 7 walks to the back of the van, pulling the doors open with a loud clank. “If you want your friend to live, let me help you.”
Heart thudding loud in my ears, I look from where Saffron’s body lies, to the car, then to Red 7’s masked face. I’m topless, scared, and utterly vulnerable. But Saffron needs my help.
“Please. Help her.”
Red 7 nods, grabbing a tarp from the back of the van and making his way over to the bushes. I run to catch up as he pushes through the brush, stopping on the other side when he catches sight of Saffron.
A low whistle punctuates the silence, making me wince. “The bandages. Yours?”
I nod, my arms tightening around my chest. “Yes.”
He places the tarp over Saffron’s naked torso, never taking his eyes off me. Red 7 stands there staring for a beat, then reaches for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one fell swoop.
“Here,” he says. “For you.”
I have a moment to ogle the intricate swirls of ink covering his sculpted forearms, and then Red 7 is shoving his shirt into my face, pulling my attention away.
I pinch the fabric between my fingers, weighing my options.
Is it better to stay naked and cold, or bite the bullet and wear the deranged serial killer's Jacket?
Another chill runs through me, and I pull the shirt over my head, breathing in deeply as I’m enveloped by warm notes of tobacco and musk. It’s familiar and comfortable, easing some of my nerves and allowing me to take a few deep, even breaths.
Red 7 stands, holding Saffron’s limp body in his arms. He jerks his head toward the van, and I follow at his heels as he hurries to the back, placing Saffron delicately in the trunk.
“You should sit with her.” He holds out a bloodied gloved hand to help me inside the van. “In case she passes on the way.”