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Kurt tightened his grip, thankfully keeping me upright because all I could do was stare.
“Sawyer! What’s wrong?” He grew more concerned as he touched my stomach, my face, and then my head.
Kurt shook my shoulders, but I couldn’t move or speak, and my tongue felt swollen—like a giant cotton ball. With a shaking finger, I pointed. Kurt turned, muttering a stream of curses when his eyes landed on the sight before us. A baby doll with a knife in its stomach and covered in red liquid lay on the couch. Behind the couch, the words my baby slashed red on the wall. He turned me away from the gruesome image.
In a fraction of a second, Kurt was on the phone. “Yes, my dressing room. Get in here now.”
That image. My baby. Instinctively, my hand touched my stomach where I felt Dylan kick. I took several deep breaths.
The door burst open, and I further leaned into Kurt, my heart skipping a beat or two.
“We need to get you guys out of here, sir.” I recognized Steve’s—the head of security—voice. But I refused to turn around.
Kurt softened his tone. “Sawyer, close your eyes until we get you out of here.”
I kept them closed. I never wanted to see that image again. Before we began to move, I heard Edge.
“Holy motherfucker!”
Cringing, I squeezed my eyes tighter and gripped onto Kurt to nearly the point of pain. Focus on Kurt’s smell, his touch, his heartbeat.
“Edge, keep anyone else from seeing this. I mean no one. Do you understand?” There was a pause. “Edge!” Kurt was losing his patience.
“Yeah, man. I swear.”
“Sawyer, can you walk or do you want me to carry you?” Kurt asked.
Carry or walk? Carry or walk? Where are we going?
Lips pressed against my forehead. “Sawyer, what do you want?”
“Carry me.”
Kurt put his arms under my knees and lifted me in the air. I squeezed my eyes tighter, but the image still burned in my mind.
“We’re out of the room, you can open your eyes.”
Concerned faces gathered around, watching us. It felt like I was in a fog, not able to process much as I kept seeing the baby doll lying on the couch. So many people echoed the same sentiment as we passed by. “Is Sawyer okay? The baby?”
“The baby is fine. Just a long day,” Kurt said.
That was an understatement. The further we moved away from the scene, the less dirty I felt. Someone had been in Kurt’s room. Someone so sick and twisted that they’d come into someone’s private space and done that. It was morbid.
Kurt set me on my feet near the exit and waited until he knew I was steady before letting go. “We need to get to the tour bus.”
So, he had an idea of what was happening. My mind raced with possibilities. “What’s going on?”
“We need to get on the bus. We’ll talk there. Promise.”
Kurt pulled out his phone, not giving me much of a chance to speak. “All clear? You sure? Okay, we’re on our way.” His tone was urgent and worried, which escalated my fear.
Are they still here? Watching us?
“Sawyer?”
I focused back on Kurt as he ended the call. “We’re going to walk out. It would be better if you could walk in case there are any paparazzi watching.”
“I can do that.” I could hear how strange and detached my own voiced sounded.
