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A horrific, bloodcurdling scream vibrates throughout my bones.
Doors click open. Two large bodies in black rush by from behind, brushing past me. Several more people enter from the fire escape. Their faces blur. I'm unable to focus. Color and voices move around me. But no one goes to her. Allie's still lying in her blood, needing someone to save her. My heart is beating so fast, I have to press my hand to the wall to stay on my feet.
"What's wrong?" a girl asks, her attention drawn to the screaming girl, yet to notice the broken body at the bottom of the stairs.
But the massive bouncer who first entered sees Allie and his stature changes, taking on an authoritative stance. His voice bellows, "Get them out of here!"
The other body in black forces the small group back onto the fire escape, keeping the devastation hidden behind him. The screaming girl is sobbing now, the only one left in the stairwell ... other than me. But no one seems to notice me, except for her. She grasps the muscular arm of the bouncer closest to her, pointing ... directly at me. But he's too busy locking the door leading to the fire escape.
The bouncer in charge lowers his voice and speaks into the cuff of his shirt, "I need the E team to stairwell five. Now."
Air moves around me as the door behind me is shoved open again. A different guy dressed in black brushes past me.
I slip through the opening just as I hear the lead bouncer shout orders at him, "Lock down all entrance points into this stairwell. Don't let anyone come or--"
And then the door clicks shut, cutting him off.
A tall, thinner, but no less intimidating, male moves in front of the closed door with his hands clasped in front of him.
I turn and take a step into the dark, my senses overwhelmed with the sudden inundation of strobing lights and pounding bass. I stare, unfocused, and release a quivering breath. I can't feel a thing other than the frantic beat of my heart. Bodies dance seductively along the railing, arms floating in the air, hands gripping hips. I remain paralyzed by the twisting vines of panic around my limbs.
Hands grip my shoulders. I blink up into bright blue eyes.
"Lana? Are you okay?" Parker examines my face with concern.
I cannot find the words to respond to his question. Am I okay? No. I am not. I am so far from being okay that I am nothing.
He calls to me again, "Lana?"
I fight to break free from the suffocating restraints holding me mute.
"Parker?" I utter feebly.
None of this feels real. I'm stuck in a slow-moving dream.
"Are you hurt?" he asks when I continue to stand there, staring into his eyes.
He scans my body, searching for injuries. His inspection comes to a sudden halt. Parker wraps his hands around my wrists and holds them up. A spray of blood glistens along the back of my left hand, and pink hairs are entangled around the fingers of my right. I yank free from his grip, my pulse firing rapidly.
Parker reaches into his pocket and hands me a pressed handkerchief. I take it from him and frantically scrub at my hands, smearing red stains on the pristine white cloth.
Raising his right cuff to his mouth, Parker talks into it, "Find my brother. Tell him I need him on the mezzanine. Now."
I inspect my trembling hands, turning them over to make sure I'm rid of all the evidence. Parker eases the cloth from my grip, stuffing it into his pants pocket.
He gently cups my face. "Everything's going to be okay."
I'm lost to my hyperventilating breaths, unable to connect with what he's telling me.
"Lana?" He forces me to focus on him. "I've got this. But you need to leave. Okay?"
The panic is wrapping around me, tighter and tighter.
"Don't say anything to anyone about what happened," Parker instructs.
"But I didn't--" I begin in a rush.
"Don't," he interrupts firmly. "Not a word."
