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He predictably yelps at first, so I put my hand back over his mouth even harder. “Do I look like the kind of guy that fucks around? Do you think I’m fucking around? Your name is on your goddamn jacket. I could easily find and kill everyone you love,” I snarl.
He shakes his head, tears streaming down his face now. He starts to remove his shirt, then his pants, never taking his eyes off me as he hands them to me.
I rip the gown off and give it to him. “Thanks,” is all I say before I put the scrubs on and walk out the door.
I get a few weird looks as I walk through more populated areas of the hospital where the med students are hanging out, but nobody suspects me enough to say anything. I’m bleeding through my gauze, but I don’t have time to change it. The chances of me getting caught get higher with every second I waste in here.
There’s a line of cabs waiting to pick up patients outside the registration area, and I pick one at random to steal.
“I need you to bring me to Delirium, the nightclub just north of here,” I instruct the driver.
He glances back at me questioningly. “You look a little rough for a night at the club. Is that place even open yet?” he asks.
I roll my eyes. “Is it your job to interrogate me about where you’re bringing me?” I ask, my patience growing thinner by the second.
He shrugs and proceeds forward. So far, I’ve gotten away with it. I didn’t have any ID on me at the time of the shooting, so I was able to give the doctors a fake name when they admitted me. Nobody here has any real idea who I am.
The driver attempts awkward small talk every few minutes, but my wary expression and short answers deter him from prying more. Thank god. I have no idea how I would talk to this man without going insane.
When we arrive at the club, I dash out of the passenger’s side door and up to the exterior staircase that leads to the first floor of the apartments. Without my keys, it takes a few minutes of pounding on the door before Mandi opens it.
“Goddamn, you look terrible. Why are you wearing scrubs?” she asks, scanning my outfit until her eyes lock on my bloody arm.
“Don’t worry about it. Is Cambria here, or is she working?” I ask, panting slightly as I catch my breath.
“She’s home, I think,” Mandi replies warily.
“Okay, thanks,” I say as I sprint past her. I’m sure she has more questions than answers now, but I’ll explain if she approaches me about it. Right now, I need to apologize to Cambria more than anything.
My heart is pounding out of my chest by the time I reach her apartment. I’ve never felt so sick in my life. Losing so much blood has taken a lot out of me.
But it doesn’t matter.
When I reach Cambria’s apartment, I reach my hand up to knock when I notice that the door isn’t even latched.
Cambria was so neurotic about doors and deadbolts being locked that she had new locks installed on her bedroom windows. She was so scared of Cole finding her that she locked the bathroom door behind her when she showered, even if she was the only person in the apartment.
This is completely unlike her.
And in my gut, I know it means something wrong.
Very wrong.
