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Oh fuck, what do I do?
I reach down and grab her arm, trying to help her stand, but it’s taking her a while to get on her feet. There’s no way I can pull her behind me and escape.
“Go, child. Run while you can,” Miss Lulah says, shaking my hand from her arm.
Frank steps in the door. He could have already reached us, but he’s grinning at me like a cat cornering a mouse, and I know he’s playing with me.
“I can’t leave you,” I say to her, grasping her again and trying to pull.
“Yes, you can. Go,” she says.
I scream again as Frank is on top of us. A blade glints in the light coming from the open door, and I watch in horror as he bends down, stabbing it into Miss Lulah’s left side.
I’m transported back to Bertrand’s office when I stabbed a knife through his neck. The sounds are identical, and it strikes me as odd because I hated him, and I don’t hate Miss Lulah. It shouldn’t sound the same. She shouldn’t even be in the same category as Bertrand.
“Hold on, Miss Lulah,” I shout, running up the back stairs. “I’m calling 911. Stay with me.”
I hear Frank running up the steps behind me, but I don’t care. All I can focus on is finding a phone.
I locate Miss Lulah’s landline, hanging in the kitchen, a long cord coiling from the base of it. I pick it up, and then my face slams into the ground after the asshole pulls my feet out from under me. I keep hold of the phone as I groan and try to roll over.
Thankfully, the buttons are on the receiver and not the cradle, and I press 9, but then something hits my face. Frank’s fist. I roll before he can get on top of me, my cheek barking in pain. I find the 1 blindly and tap it twice, then try to bring the phone to my ear as I scramble for purchase to get up. He grabs me around the waist, pulling me to him, and then wraps his fingers on top of mine around the phone.
“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?” comes through the speaker.
I start to yell. “I’m being attacked, Miss Lulah has been stabbed. I need help—” I’m cut off as his hand wraps around my mouth.
I scream against him and throw my head backward. I connect with something as he gives a grunt of pain.
“Hello? Please slow down and calmly tell me what’s going on,” the operator says.
I say the same thing over again. My brain won’t stop running wild, and I can’t think.
“What’s your name?”
“Wryn. Wryn Soltorre. Miss Lulah—”
Frank manages to cover my mouth again, and everything I try to say comes out as muffled noises.
“Hello? Wryn?”
I suddenly throw my body to the side, taking us both off-kilter, and we slide to the floor. His hand slips.
“I’m on Baker Street. I don’t know the house number. There’s a yellow Caddy parked out back. The back door is open. She’s bleeding. Help her,” I scream.
The line goes dead. Frank must have hit the button on the cradle. I hadn’t even noticed that he wasn’t on top of me anymore. I stare at the phone in my hand for a second and then drop it. It’s no use, trying to call back.
I failed. Miss Lulah is going to die, and it’s all because of me.
“Miss Lulah!” I scream, hoping she can hear me. I watch Frank stalk toward me. “I called an ambulance. They are on their way.” I hope. I want to give her hope.
Please fucking be on your way. Please,I beg. With everything in me, I beg.
“Get the fuck up,” Frank says, jerking on my arm.
I lie like a limp fish, making him work for it. He bends down, scooping me under the armpits and holding me up. He’s fucking strong. Doesn’t even seem winded after everything we went through. Now, he holds me up like I’m a doll.
“Frank?” A man’s voice comes up the back steps. “We gotta go.”
