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He pushes me in and slams the door shut. I start to jump up and down as I freak out.
I hear a second guard’s voice ring out and then someone running up the hall and then a gunshot. Oh fuck! I hold my hands over my mouth and then another three gun shots… then silence.
My heartbeat is thumping in my chest hard and the house is silent except for the deafening alarm. Oh dear god, who had the gun? Why is there silence? Who’s down there? I start to shake my hands frantically in front of me as adrenaline pumps heavily through my body. Fuck! I put my ear up to the door and try to listen. Please be ok, Joshua. Where are you? Oh god, Bridget and Abbie, where’s Cameron? My hands go to my chest as I try to control my erratic heartbeat and the tears of fear start to roll down my face. Why is it so quiet? Is Ben ok? My recurring nightmare of Ben and Joshua dying comes straight to my mind. Don’t let it be true. I hear a downstairs door slam and then more yelling but it seems to be coming from outside in the backyard. I need to know what’s going on so I slowly open the bathroom door to try and hear but it’s muffled. Something is definitely happening in the backyard. I suddenly hear glass smashing downstairs and I quickly close the door again and lock it. Fuck, this is hectic. Where is my phone? I need to ring the police. It’s on my side table so I slowly open the door again and my eyes search the darkened room. Is anyone in here? Oh my god, this is terrifying. Where is Joshua? I run to the bedside, grab my phone and run back into the bathroom and lock the door. I am breathless with fear. What’s the number for the police here? It’s 000 in Australia… what is it in America? Is it the same as the television shows? I shake my hands as I try to remember… is it 555… 999… 911. I hold my hands to my temples. Think Natasha, think. I can’t think over that fucking alarm. Shut the hell up! 555, 999, 555… I dial the number 911 and it rings.
“Fire, ambulance or police services?” a calm voice answers.
“Police.” I yell.
“Hold the line.”
“Hello, Police.” The person answers.
“We have been broken into, and there are gunshots. Please come,” I stammer.
“Ok, Ma’am, please stay calm. What is your address?”
My eyes widen: what is the fucking address? “Um, I don’t know,” I whisper in a panic. “I am in Brentwood. My fiancé is Joshua Stanton. We are at his house and someone has broken in. There were shots fired.”
“Stay on the line, Ma’am.” She seemingly rings someone while I nearly hyperventilate. Another gunshot… omg… what’s happening?
“They are shooting! Hurry up!” I stammer. “I need a police car here now,” I scream.
“Calm down, Ma’am, and stay on the line. Is anyone injured?”
My eyes are nearly bulging from their sockets. How in the hell is this woman staying so calm? “I don’t know,” I yell. How many times does she get these phone calls?
The bathroom door bangs and I scream and jump into the shower. “Are you there, Ma’am?” the woman replies.
“Omg,” I stammer.
“Natasha, it’s us.” I hear Bridget’s voice whisper through the door. I nearly collapse in relief and open the door and Bridget and Abbie run in and slam the door behind them and flick the lock.
Bridget grabs me in relief. “Eeww
, you’re naked,” she remarks as she cuddles me. “Get dressed.”
“Are you there, Ma’am?” the operator repeats.
“Yes, I’m here,” I whisper.
“Who’s that?” Abbie snaps.
“Police,” I whisper.
Abbie snatches the phone off me. “Listen. Get someone here right now. Someone has been shot and we are in a fucking bathroom,” she yells.
My hands go to my chest. “Who has been shot?” I stammer with wide eyes.
Bridget shakes her head. “I don’t know. We heard someone groaning after a gunshot.”
My eyes widen. “What the hell… was it Joshua?” I whisper.
“No, I don’t think so,” she answers.
“Yes or no?” I snap.
“I don’t fucking know,” she yells.
