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“Aargh!” I screech, my knees and palms buried in glass. The wound on my stomach pulses and I vaguely feel blood slithering down my navel.
I try to ignore the pain and the blood because I need to focus. I need to get out of here before Maksim returns.
Trembling with fatigue, I fight to my feet, groaning through closed teeth as I stand on the broken pieces of glass, each shard piercing the soles of my feet.
Why is the floor covered in broken glass?
My head swirls when I'm upright. I press a hand to the wall but slide against the smooth surface, my hand seeping with blood.
I don't understand what's wrong with me. I've not been drugged. I know that feeling all too well. No. This isn't the sensation of being drugged. This is an illness.
Blinking about, I search for some clothes because I'm naked—even my bracelet is gone.
My bracelet.
Charlie...
My heart twists, but I urge myself to pay attention. I can find Charlie when I'm out of here. Hopefully, he knows where James is. Hopefully, James is still alive.
Stretching across the far back wall are a collection of white doors. Wardrobe doors? They're too far away. One step, and I'm walking on glass. At the foot of the bed, there's a white shirt. I fall onto the bed with a bounce, enhancing the throbbing in my stomach. I shuffle for the shirt and slip my hands down the arm holes, struggling to shift it up over my shoulders. Every motion is agony, drawing my focus to the splits across my back. As I button myself up, I'm very aware that the cold material clings to my back, like it's soaking through with water or something.
Blood. It has to be blood.
Before I get up again, I try once more to calm my heart rate and my breathing, but neither will slow.
I touch my chest; feel my heart hammering against my palm.
Maybe Maksim has drugged me? That's all I can make sense of.
If he has, that means my mind will be clear in a few hours. I just need to find a few hours of freedom then I can battle for more.
Thinking on a subconscious level, I knock the pillows off the bed, onto the floor, and use them as a bridge over the glass. My legs are fragile, rickety under me, and I go off balance as my feet sink into the pillows, soaking them through with blood.
At the door, I pull down the handle and stagger out of the bedroom, clutching my stomach.
Music. I can hear music booming from downstairs. A party.
That means Maksim will be excited on drugs and booze.
I swallow past the dry-tightness in my throat, willing myself to be as quiet as a mouse.
Gripping the banister rail, I stumble down the stairs and across a small oval entrance hall, my vision a mazy vapor. Everything is enhanced with colors, giving me double vision.
Front doors. I blink a few times. Definitely front doors. Pulling down the handles, I yank them open and fall through, landing on my bloody palms. I don't scream out, even though I want to. That hurts. With a heavy, pounding head, I negotiate to my feet and stagger across a paved driveway, between tons of flash cars, leaving a trail of blood in my wake.
The air is so cold it's hard to handle, making my eyes feel like balls of ice in their sockets.
A country lane. I gasp in relief, though I have no idea where I am. I'm not near London, that much I'm sure of.
It's dark. The trees are tall and thick, clawing over me. As I stumble onward, the moon flickers through the leaves in silver streams of light.
I'm not sure how long I wander around for until I see blinding white headlights. I shield my eyes with my forearm, squinting to see who that might be. I haven't passed another house. Maybethatis one of Maksim's friends?
My heart drops through me.
The car stops with a jagged screech and I hear a door clicking open. I stop there, frozen to my core, struggling to focus my eyes.
Please, don't be Maksim or one of his friends.
