Page 105 of I Hope This Email Finds You in Hell

His hands cup my cheeks and I cling to them, but only for a moment before turning back to the faulty fucking fax machine. “Where’s the plug?”

Luke gets on his hands and knees to crawl beneath the last shelf of the metal rack. I can only see the bottom half of his body when he says, “Got it. Ready?”

“Pull it,” I order.

The light on the machine goes off and the whole world seems to get quiet. The pounding on the other side of the door has stopped, and even the faint music from the party above disappears. My raging heartbeat is the only sound thundering in my ears.

I count thirty agonizing seconds out loud. With each passing one, the reality sets in that this might not work. That monsters could be crossing into the overworld right now. That despite everything we’ve endured, this night could still end in failure.

“Plug it back in,” I say when half a minute has finally passed.

Luke does, shimmying out from under the rack. At first, nothing happens. My finger hovers over the power button on the fax machine before I finally press it.

It whirs. The light blinks once, twice, three times. Red.

And then it turns green and stays that way.

“That was…” I search for words, though nothing sums up the overwhelming relief I feel at seeing the green light. “Kind of anticlimactic, actually.”

Luke doesn’t quite agree.

“We did it.” His voice is full of awe. He stands, rolling out his shoulders and looking around. “I can feel it—it’s back. You did it.”

I don’t feel anything but the intense desire to lie down and never get up again, but I grin at him nonetheless. “Good thing you brought me after all, huh?”

“Good thing.” He laughs, scooping me into a hug that lifts my feet off the ground. It would be sickeningly romantic if it didn’t feel like he was plunging a knife in my side.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, setting me down as soon as the wounded cry involuntarily leaves my lips. “Are you hurt?”

“My side.” I finally allow my fingers to gently probe where it hurts most and suck down a breath.

The hound didn’t just shred the dress—he shredded my flesh. Four gouges span my left ribcage, so deep that blood weeps from them. Only now do I realize the entire left half of my gown is soaked from it, the rust red blending in with the dark purple fabric.

“Brie.”

I was almost a doctor. I know it’s bad. But hearing my name burst from Luke’s mouth in a cocktail of horror and heartache is what seals the deal.

That, and my quickly darkening vision.

I don’t make the decision to collapse—one second I’m standing, and the next I’m on the rough, carpeted floor, half in Luke’s arms because he caught me before I hit the ground.

“It’s okay,” I say, feeling the odd urge to comfort him even though I’m the one bleeding out in a supply closet right now, arguably one of the worst places to kick it. “I’ll be okay. It’s okay.”

“I’ll get you home.” He clutches me, frantically looking around the room as if an ambulance might appear. When one doesn’t, he looks down at me. “Just hold on. You have to get home. For Krystal, remember?”

“And Debra,” I try to joke, though it comes out as a wheeze. “Who else is gonna badger her for next week’s report?”

“Exactly. You’re one of a kind.” As if realizing the words, he holds me tighter. It hurts, but also might be keeping me together. “You’re one of a kind, Brie Benson.”

There’s an explosion so loud my ears ring. Luke curls over me, protecting my broken body with his. Smoke swims up my nose, clouding my already hazy thoughts.

“You did it.”

The voice is familiar, but not Luke’s. Consciousness is a slippery thing that worms out of my grasp every time I think I have it. I don’t know how long I was out for, or if I was out at all. I don’t know how long it will be until I go under again.

I don’t know if I will ever wake up if I do.

“No, no, no.”