Eight
Kallie
I shy away from the sunlight poking through the curtains while my head continues to pound. Stomach churning, moments pass before I get the courage to fully open my eyes.
Don’t puke. Don’t puke. Don’t puke.
Taking a few deep breaths, the fog starts to disappear, and noting I’m safe and sound in my room means I have to give Kate the biggest thank-you for making sure I got home last night.
Fuck . If this is the way I’m feeling, I can’t imagine what she’s going through right now. Memories come in like pieces to a jigsaw puzzle. Grabbing my drink from the bartender on the way back from the bathroom. Dancing with whomever that guy was. Then everything went black.
Rolling over, I spot two aspirin and a bottle of water on the nightstand, and sitting on the floor is a bucket that I’m assuming was put there in case those drinks decided to make their way back up.
Pain radiates in my temples, making me wince as I begin to sit up. The aspirins feel like boulders going down, and instantly, I want to heave. Continuing to take small sips of water, I let it settle in my stomach while looking down at myself.
I’m wearing my jammies and not the dress from last night. Curious, I rub my fingertips over my cheek to find it free of makeup and my teeth oddly clean.
Did she seriously brush my teeth for me? The appreciation is there, but I need to make sure she knows that she does not need to do that—should the opportunity present itself again.
Stepping around the bucket, I rip my blanket off the bed and throw it over my shoulders and cover my head, making myself into a little burrito of gross.
Heading out to the kitchen, the smell of roasted coffee beans hits my nose, and it might be the most delectable scent to ever be created. However, when my eyes land on the bagel sandwich sitting on the counter, I let out a moan that can only be described as an animalistic mating call specifically curated to draw in that sandwich.
As I’m devouring the most delicious meal to ever be consumed, the front door creaks open, and Kate tiptoes in. Our eyes meet, and she stops dead in her tracks, and I stop mid bite. We continue staring at each other until she breaks the silence. “Kallie, you’re up early.” Feigning ignorance, I steal a glance at the oven clock that reads 1:30 p.m. Taking this opportunity to really look at her appearance, I note the smeared mascara, heels in hand, and the dress she wore last night still plastered to her body. A grin slowly starts to spread on my face, and she mimics my reaction.
Despite my headache, a bubble of laughter erupts out of me, and Kate follows suit. She finally closes the door, and her heels clatter to the floor.
Wiping the tears from my eyes, she pours herself a cup of coffee and turns back to face me, leaning against the counter.
“Tell me everything!” My excitement must catch her off guard because I catch a surprised look ghost over her face.
“He was like a dream. I would say, at the very least, top three,” she starts, eyes drifting off like she’s replaying the night in her head.
“Hello, Earth to Kate,” I say, snapping my fingers between us.
She giggles. “Sorry, but it was ah-mazing. Would definitely ride that ride again.” Finishing off my cup, I ask, “Did you get his number?”
“He has mine. If he wants to use it, he will.” She throws me a wink and sets her mug in the sink before padding toward her room.
The door is about to shut when my smile falls, and I’m hit with a bundle of questions I can’t answer. If Kate was out all night, how did I make it home? Who set up my care package on my nightstand, and who left me this breakfast?
“Kate, do you know how I got home, by chance? I woke up this morning with the worst hangover, and I don’t remember how I got back here.” My breath hitches on the last word as I try to keep calm.
“You were talking to that guy at the bar, and it looked like you guys were having a good time. You were talking about him in the bathroom with me. You kept calling him…mystery man? Yeah, mystery man. He’s really cute too. You probably came back here with him.” Fear creeps up on me, and I feel the color drain from my face. Kate must see my panic because she runs over and says, “Kallie, it’s okay. Just breathe. I’m sure nothing happened. You would know, right? Are you sore? Any pain?” Concern is spread over her face, and I know she’s blaming herself. We just stare at each other while I try to get myself together. All the different possibilities are running into each other at ultra speed. I force my face to relax and slump my shoulders, trying to give her reassurance that I’m alright.
“You’re right. I feel fine, other than the normal hangover. I’m sure it’s just some misunderstanding.” I make a mental note to find this guy and figure out what the hell happened last night. How could I be so stupid? I fight the bile that is threatening to rise in my throat as the worst of the scenarios pushes itself to the front.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” She leans in closer, bracing both hands on my shoulders.
“Yes, I’m fine. You go get some sleep before you collapse on the floor. I don’t think I have the energy to carry you to bed.” Giggling, I give her a hug, and she steals one last glance over her shoulder before shutting the door.
Despite what my appearance says, I feel fucking disgusting.
I need a shower. Or three.
Washing my dishes in a haze, I place them on the drying rack and stalk back into my room. Quickly getting undressed, I leave my jammies discarded on the floor and wrap myself in a towel. Pulling my hair up, I snag my shower caddy and slip on shower shoes as I make my way out the door.
When I get back to the dorm, I get dressed and peek my head in Kate’s room and see her passed out on her bed. Shutting the door quietly, I head to the kitchen to make myself some hot tea and sit my happy ass on the couch to have my own Fast and Furious marathon.
At the end of Tokyo Drift, my eyes start feeling heavy. Grabbing a throw blanket off the back of the couch, I get settled into the pillows, and once the credits start rolling, so do my eyes, and I’m greeted by darkness.
Dried blood marks my skin once again, like a fucking badge of honor, and it cracks with each stride I make. Tree branches slice my face while I sprint past, and that stupid thumping returns to torment me.
I thought this was over. Maybe I was just hopeful.
With the footsteps eating up the distance that separates us, my fight-or-flight instincts ramp up, and I keep pushing forward.
I run through the pain in my legs as they start to scream. I push as the eyes chasing me laser into the back of my head with such intensity I’m compelled to turn around.
Even as the forest quiets, I keep going, because if I look back, that’s when the true beast comes out to play.
The pain in my legs ceases in an instant, like I’m suspended in the air, completely weightless. The infamous knife nearly slips out of my grip, and the cloud beneath me shifts to keep me stable.
What the hell? But my thoughts are pulled away from one anomaly to the next. A glare reflects off the blade. Twisting and turning it, I try to find the source. Looking up, through the leaves and the overgrown branches, hiding behind a cluster of clouds is the moon. A smile spreads across my face, and I let out a quivering breath. Transfixed on the moon’s beauty, unshed tears muddle the view, and I don’t hear it until it’s too late.
My stomach goes into my throat as I’m yanked from the small sanctuary. A scream ripples through me as pain shoots up my right calf, blood soaking my pant leg and dripping into my shoes.
With every scream I let out, the chances of me waking up get slimmer and slimmer. My assailant drags me over the rough ground on my stomach, fallen twigs scraping my exposed flesh as my shirt rides up. My throat burns, but I don’t stop , won’t stop, until I have nothing left to give.
I will not give up.
The creature stomps on, gruffing like I’m the inconvenience in this situation. Once I calm myself down and have a moment to think, it dawns on me.
The knife.
Truly a miracle it wasn’t lost. Holding firm on the handle, I twist in pain as the claws of my perpetrator stay locked in. My face feels rubbed raw, and the rocks and twigs continue their demise on my back, using it as a blank canvas.
Letting my arms rest above my head, I level out my breathing, mentally preparing myself for what’s to come. In one swift motion, I crunch up, and bring the knife with me, using every ounce of strength to bring it straight down, slicing through its arm. It makes an unearthly sound as its dismembered arm falls. Black blood sprays from the sight, and I turn my head to shield it from my face. I don’t hesitate, rolling onto my hands and knees to push myself up and start running like hell.
My body feels like it’s going to explode. The wound is throbbing, and I’m losing too much blood. Every step I take is more excruciating than the last. I don’t know how the fuck I’m supposed to get out of here. Running isn’t an option anymore, and if it decides to come back for me, I don’t know if I’ll survive another attack.
A faint glow consumes the air around me and settles under my feet. My body slowly starts to rise, and I can feel the immediate relief once my feet are off the ground. The branches that surround me are brutal against my already raw flesh.
What is this? I stare at the puff of smoke holding me in amazement, unsure how or why it’s here. All too soon, it lowers me to the ground, and although I anticipate the pain, I still wail out in agony.
Crouching behind a tree, rustling sounds behind me, and I swallow my cries until the forest falls silent again.
Crack.
The sound ricochets across the area, echoing in the deepest corners, so I’m unable to find its source. Either way, I rip myself away from the tree and break out in a sprint—well, more like a hobble—all the pain from my wound long forgotten.
My foot snags on a tree root, and I stumble. Regaining my balance, I see a thin glow of yellow eyes to my left. A scream gets lost in my throat, and I keep going, thankful I didn’t face plant, because footsteps emerge behind me instantly.
Warm breath fans the back of my neck, and despite my better judgment, I turn around. As soon as I do, my body rams right into a wall. Arms extend to grab me, and right before I scream, the moon grants me the small gift of a devilish grin painted on the bottom half of a face.
The surprise and shock has delayed my usual reaction, but once its — no his— mouth starts to open, I let out a scream. I fling upright, the scream lost somewhere as I sit on the couch with the distinct GRIMM theme music playing in the background.