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“You couldn’t have done this in the morning.” Damian scowled.
I groaned, looking up at him, and felt nauseous.
“It’s alright, I got you.” Damian sighed. “Come here, love.” He carefully worked his hands under me, and easily lifted me, taking me up to the landing at the stop of the stairs that were blood free. I stared down at the stairs watching the bloody water pool down each step, and then looked back at my hands, and suddenly started seeing black spots in my vision.
“Come on, you’re alright. Don’t pass out, Addy.” Damian instructed.
I felt the room spinning, and I felt sick.
“I think I’m gonna puke.” And then I blacked out.
20
DAMIAN
Addison wentlimp in my arms as the blood dripped down her arms.
Fuck.
I sat on the top floor of the stairwell and holding her in my lap; propping up her hands while I patted my pockets, looking for my phone.
“You’ve got to be shitting me.”
My phone was nowhere to be found. I must have left it on my desk. I had heard Addison scream, and glass breaking, and I had bolted down the hall to her as fast as I could. In my haste, I had not only locked us into the stairwell, but I had left my phone in my office.
My heart raced in my chest as I looked at Addison, unconscious in my arms. All the color had drained from her face. I held Addison's hands, palm up, and looked at the glass and the blood dripping down her arm. There was significant bleeding, that was for sure. I’d seen plenty of wounds in my time, and as I inspected her, I hoped it was minimal damage and she hadn’t severed any nerves or tendons.
I looked around. The blood mixed with the water from the flower vase had made it look like a fucking massacre in here.
There is no way this event is happening tomorrow.
Addison remained unconscious, but breathing. I glanced down at her feet, unable to see how much glass she had stepped on.
“Addy, my love.” I gently stroked her hair back away from her forehead as she stirred.
She groaned as she woke up. “I’m gonna puke.”
I quickly grabbed a nearby vase and dumped the flowers and water out and shoved it in front of her face as she wretched into it. I held the vase in one hand while she puked, and propped her palms up with my other hand, in a sort of precarious balance.
“You’re alright. That’s it. You’re gonna be just fine.” I set the vase back up against the wall when she was done, and she groaned.
“It really hurts.” She started to cry.
I blew out a breath. “I know, love.” I knew there wasn’t much I could do for her pain until I got her out of the stairwell.
“Is the downstairs door shut?” She groaned.
“Yes.”
“We’re stuck then.” Her voice cracked as she panicked.
“Do you have your phone?” I gently prodded.
“No, they don’t put pockets in women's clothing, so it’s in the conference room. Do you have yours?” She was getting more and more worked up.
“No.”
“But youhavepockets. Why don’t you have your phone?”
