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Breathing hard, bent over with my hands on my knees, and trying to catch my breath, I barely noticed the falling snow as my body temperature radiated heat and welcomed the cold’s touch. I tried calling Natalie’s name over and over again and looked in every direction she could possibly have run, but she was gone.
I yelled her name one last time with an urgency I’d never felt before, and that’s when I heard her. My head moved in the direction of the small cry. A cry that I was thankfully able to hear.
In the distance, I first saw only her legs next to a tree, and I swear my heart stopped beating. And then I ran like I was fucking Usain Bolt.
She was lying motionless against the tree with her eyes closed and her arms wrapped around herself when I arrived. Blood had trickled down the left side of her face and dripped onto the snow beside her. Her legs were left bare to the elements since she was only wearing what looked like an old football jersey, which might have been a part of her Halloween costume, and her shoeless feet were in the beginning stages of turning blue.
I dropped to my knees and reached for her with shaking hands, instantly relieved when I could feel a pulse. I was so scared as I said Natalie’s name repeatedly and tried to wake her up, that I never even heard the sirens getting closer until the ambulance pulled up beside us.
Fuck!
I run my hand through my hair and stand up suddenly to open the window for some fresh air. A slight breeze makes its way into the room, allowing me to escape that horrible vision.
Did she know it was me who found her?
That it was me who wrapped her in my jacket before I picked her up and placed her in the ambulance? That it was me who tried to visit her in the hospital, only to be told by staff members that just immediate family could see her? Or that it was me who left a bouquet of pink roses on her porch, too much of a coward to knock on the front door and hand them to her?
No. She wouldn’t know any of this.
She has never mentioned that day to me, so I’ve been assuming she has no idea it was me who found her. And I would never bring it up to her. I mean, how do you casually bring up something like this? Especially since I never saw her after that night. Not until just recently, that is.
But now, the thought of what might have happened to her that night was eating away at me.
Natalie had told the paramedics that she slipped on some ice as she fell in and out of consciousness, but I knew she was lying. My gut was telling me something wasn’t right, but I chose to believe her words so that I could selfishly try to get that image of her lying helplessly against the tree out of my head.
If somethinghadhappened to her that night, I would never be able to forgive myself, especially knowing we had been in the same house.
But that’s the thing. I was pretty sure I knew everyone at that party, and there wasn’t anyone there who would have hurt her.
Or was there?
I shake my head, trying to make this thought disappear because it makes my heart pound and my insides boil with unyielding rage.
Think of Natalie.
The image of Natalie lying on the bed in this room earlier appears and makes my wrath subside. I lean against the window frame and appreciate the coolness from the glass on my skin.
When I opened the bathroom door and saw her lying on the bed in nothing but her figure-hugging bathrobe, I nearly lost my towel on purpose. Her robe left little to the imagination, showing off her long legs and hourglass figure. And the never-ending slit in the center of her robe was only an inch away from ultimately revealing her.
The things I wanted to do to her would surely have made her blush if I had said them out loud.
I don’t know anything about Natalie’s sexual history and honestly don’t want to because thinking about Natalie with another guy makes my jaw reluctantly clench in pain. Still, I couldn't deny I was curious.
Had she ever …?
I knew that all the guys back in high school would have done anything to be with her. There were even a few I had to put in their place when I had heard them talk about their intentions with Natalie in the locker room.
But that’s how I had always been with her. I always felt like I needed to protect her since she was part of our little group with the Gordons. At the time, I was young and stupid and didn’t understand why, but now, I was beginning to. I had feelings for her, feelings I didn’t know were actually possible to have for someone else.
An involuntary sigh escapes me as I look to my left and see the clock on the nightstand showing 11 a.m. My pullover is in the corner of the room on the floor, so I throw it on before making my way downstairs. But as I walk through the hallway, I see Natalie’s bedroom door open and glance inside.
Last night, after Jason pulled into the driveway, I wrapped Natalie in my sweatshirt before picking her up and carrying her through the front door. I was sure to follow Jason’s directions to her room and not wake her parents up.
That was the last thing I needed.
After approaching the end of the hall, I opened the third door on the left, revealing a glimpse into Natalie’s life.
A massive white bed was pushed against one of the walls and covered with decorative pillows and blankets. A rather large bay window with a long bench overlooking the expansive backyard was on the opposite wall from her bed, and bookcases filled with every book imaginable stood on both sides of the room.
