Until Harry(62)

“Help me!” I screamed as loud as I could and fought against Jensen when he tried to cover my mouth with his hands.

I heard a female voice shout outside of the apartment, and hope filled me.

“Help me!” I cried out once more. “Help!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Jensen bellowed, but he jolted with fright when a large bang sounded on the front door. Once, twice, then on the third bang a crunching noise filled the apartment as the door was kicked open.

I couldn’t see who it was, but I heard a female voice scream when a body rushed at Jensen. I felt the weight of his body lift off me, and I was so thankful for it.

“Oh, my God,” the female voice screamed. “Is she dead?”

I made a noise to show her I wasn’t because I didn’t want her to leave me. I felt the woman drop to her knees beside me and push my hair out of my face. She placed something against my forehead that caused me to cry out in pain when she applied pressure.

“I have to stop the bl-bleeding,” she stuttered, then repeated, “Oh, my God” over and over again.

“Drew,” a male voice snapped. “Call an ambulance right now.”

Drew? I tried to open my eyes but found I couldn’t.

“Drew?” I rasped.

She was silent for a second as a piece of fabric was rubbed over my face, and then I heard a strangled gasp.

“Lane?” she cried. “Oh, my God! Lane, what has he done to you?”

I wanted to answer her, but I couldn’t seem to do a bloody thing with my vocal cords.

“You know her?” the male voice asked.

Drew whimpered, “She’s my boyfriend’s best friend.”

I was his best friend when it suited him. At the thought of Kale, I forced my mouth to open and my voice to work.

“Don’t,” I rasped.

She grabbed hold of my hand and said, “Don’t you close your eyes. Do you hear me, Lane?”

I heard her, but my body didn’t want to listen to her. It wanted to sleep.

I blinked a couple of times. “Drew, don’t tell Kale.”

I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want him to know what had happened to me.

She ignored me and rattled off information to the person she was talking to on the phone. She got mad and told this person to stop asking so many questions and to send police and an ambulance because she thought I was dying.

I felt like I was floating, so I had no clue why she was thinking something so ridiculous.

Her tone changed then, and I heard her cry, “Kale!”

I don’t know how, but I heard his raised and panicked voice through my cloud of light-headedness.

“I’m fine,” she cried. “It’s Lane. Oh, God, Kale, there is so much blood.”

Kale was practically screaming through the receiver of the phone.

“Jensen Sanders,” Drew cried. “He was beating her, but we got to her in time to stop him before – before anything really bad happened. She’s hurt, and I can’t stop her head from bleeding.”

I exhaled a deep breath in defeat as Drew told Kale everything I didn’t want her to. I closed my eyes because I was going to need my rest to face Kale and my family when it came time for me to explain what happened. I ignored Drew’s pleas for me to stay awake and drifted into a surprisingly peaceful slumber.



When I awoke, there was so much activity and noise that it hurt my already throbbing head.

“Lane?” an unfamiliar voice called out.

I groaned.

Go away, a voice in my head hissed.

“Can you hear me, Lane?” There was a man talking to me, and he was really bloody loud.

“Stop shouting,” I said, causing a huge sigh of relief to echo.

“Thank God,” a familiar voice whispered.

I blinked my eyes, but only my left eye would open, which freaked me out.

“My eye,” I gasped.

What can’t I open my right eye?

I felt gentle hands press against my shoulders, and with my good eye I squinted and saw there was a man with dark skin leaning over me. He smiled brightly at me, which surprisingly relaxed me.

“What is your name, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice deep and soothing to my ears.

I winced in pain but said, “Lane Edwards.”

He nodded, still smiling. “What is your date of birth?”

I had to think about that for a second, but I remembered the correct date and said, “The fifth of February, nineteen-ninety.”

“Last question,” the smiling man said. “Who is our prime minister?”

I grimaced. “David Cameron, unfortunately.”

“That’s really good, Lane,” he said, laughing.

“Where am I?” I asked, bewildered.

“My name is Jacob, and I’m your paramedic,” Jacob said clearly. “You’re in my ambulance, and we’re en route to York Hospital to have you assessed and admitted by a doctor. You gave us a scare there for a minute, but you seem to be doing better. You’re awake and talking, and that is what I like to see.”

What the hell does that mean?

“What happened?” I asked.

Jacob frowned down at me. “Can you remember anything, Lane?”

I closed my eye and thought hard about what could have happened to me that had me in the back of an ambulance and on the way to the hospital. For a minute or two I drew a blank, and then, like the impact of a train, it all came flooding back.