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“What did you hear?” he asks again, encouraging me to continue.
“Him,” I reply on a whisper.
That word has never sounded so dirty, and nausea rolls over me.
“We have to find Lucky,” I cry, not wanting to imagine what has happened to him.
“Fuck,” Quinn curses, grabbing my hand and leading me away from Justin, who looks confused and…angry.
But I don’t have time to question why, as Quinn is dragging me toward the front entrance where we left Lucky. But he’s gone.
My heart crumbles in my chest, and I choke back a sob. “Where is he, Quinn?”
“I don’t know, but we’ll find him, I promise,” Quinn says with sheer determination as his eyes dart around the courtyard.
I can’t help but think, if and when we do find him, what shape will he be in? The sound of barking alerts both Quinn and me, and we turn to see Lucky limp toward us.
“Lucky!” I scream and run toward him. His front right paw hangs at a grotesque angle, hindering his walking.
“Stay, boy!” I yell as he’s struggling to move.
The moment I reach his side, I drop to both knees, throwing my arms around his neck. The tears I have been holding on to spill free, and I sob into his soft coat as he collapses onto the cold ground.
My relief is overwhelming, and I pass my hands over every inch of his body, making sure he is real. It isn’t until Quinn gasps that I pull away and see what has him winded. My hand pauses, and I notice Lucky’s black and white coat covered in smears of red blood.
“Where’s the blood coming from?” Quinn asks, dropping to both knees, frantically examining Lucky’s body with both hands.
“Oh God,” I choke, my hands following Quinn’s desperate search to find the wound.
“It’s not his blood,” Quinn says after a minute of thoroughly examining Lucky, and he turns my left palm over, letting out a tiny gasp.
I hiss in pain as the blood is coming from my hand. I vaguely remember slicing it open in the bathroom, and now that the adrenaline has worn off, it throbs in severe pain. I attempt to pull it toward me, wanting to cradle it to my chest, but Quinn holds on tight as he tears apart a strip of his gray shirt to carefully wrap it around my hand.
I recoil with the pressure but allow him to tie it tight to stop the bleeding. The sticky blood runs down my arm, and because of my long-sleeved sweater, it concealed the bleeding.
“Sorry,” Quinn says, flinching with me when he sees I’m in pain. “I didn’t even see you were bleeding before. I just…”
But he doesn’t continue.
“You’ll need stitches.”
“I’ll be fine,” I reply, nuzzling my face into Lucky’s fur. “Lucky is the one who needs stitches. Did you see his paw?”
Quinn nods. “We’ll have to find a vet.”
“Want to tell me what the hell is going on?” Quinn asks, but I just can’t speak, not yet.
A thunderclap alerts us that the heavens are about to open, and I can’t help but think, this is just the beginning of a wild storm.
“What are you doing?” Quinn demands, watching me move madly around the room, collecting my belongings in a whirlwind of panic.
“I have to go,” I reply, dropping to my knees and searching for my missing Chuck under the bed.
“Red, just stop. You’re giving me whiplash with all your buzzing around. Come here,” Quinn demands from where he sits on the edge of the bed.
Finding my missing shoe, I back out from under the bed, puffing my hair off my brow.
“We don’t have time.”
