Jack is keeping me close to his chest, one hand in my hair and the other clutching the knife. He’s moving us backward across the kitchen, as to keep an eye on Campbell.
I mentally prepare myself to get away. Just before we reach the entry to the kitchen, I bring my foot down to stomp on his instep.
“What the fuck?” he exclaims, stumbling back. I lace my fingers together and rear my elbow back, landing it in his stomach, knocking him further off balance. He lets go of my hair, but then trips over the box, which had flown off the table.
I turn to run, but he grabs my shirt and pulls me down with him as he falls to the floor. We land and the metal of the knife scrapes across the hardwood floor.
It’s my chance. Possibly my last chance.
Kicking my legs at him as hard as I can to get out of his reach, he finally unhands me and I’m able to roll away from him. I scramble, my elbows and knees pounding on the hardwood with each movement, but my mind blocks the pain, and I stay concentrated on the objective.
Get the knife and run.
Get the knife and run.
He’s crawling, stumbling behind me, my moment of freedom slipping away. His groans and profanities are getting closer, but my panic subsides as adrenaline takes over. I feel the cool metal of the knife in my shaking hands, and I grip it tightly, letting its slick body meld to my skin. It provides a moment of peace, security in a time of chaos.
Jack grabs my shoulder to force me to my feet, and as I turn, I jab the blade forward. I put every bit of my might, every ounce of energy I have left, into holding that knife.
His body strains as the blade enters his chest and I hold my breath, waiting for whatever absolution will follow. He inhales deeply as though it will be his last, but I hang onto the blade, I cannot will myself to let go.
“I won’t let you win,” I scream, tears flowing down my cheeks.
He exhales and his body crumples on top of me, crushing me below him. I feel the life drain out of him, and it’s only when he stops breathing that I find the will to breathe again.
My heart is pounding; my breathing is to point of hyperventilating.
Jack is dead.
I’ve killed him; his motionless body on top of me a reminder of that.
I gain some semblance of my composure and push him off me, the knife still solidly buried in his chest.
“Oh, my God,” I hear Royce stammer. I look up to see him standing in the living room taking in the bloody scene.
“Please, call the police,” I choke out.
He rushes to me and breaks the tape from my wrists. “What the fuck happened here?” he asks, examining me for injuries.
“I’m okay. This isn’t my blood. Please just call the police.”
He nods and pulls his cell phone from his pocket. He wraps an arm around me and steers me from the living room, but I break away.
“No. Campbell,” I say adamantly before turning from him and rushing to the kitchen.
I see her where I left her, propped against the refrigerator and I can’t get to her fast enough. I kneel down next to her and try to shake her awake, but she isn’t moving. Blood has saturated her shirt where the blade penetrated her abdomen.
I grab a towel from the drawer next to us and press it against her wound to stop the bleeding. Resting my head on her chest, I listen for a breath, a heartbeat, anything that would tell me she’s going to be okay.
“Please don’t go, Campbell,” I whisper to her. “You’re my family.”
Lakin
I don’t know what prompted me to get in my car, something just felt off. Carly is never intrusive or insistent, but her texts were. She was adamant that Campbell come over immediately, and that’s not like her. Something is wrong.
I was tense when Campbell left for Carly’s house, but when Campbell wouldn’t return any of my texts, and then Carly ignored me as well, I began to worry. Then when a text came in from Royce to get to Carly’s house, I grabbed my keys and headed in the direction of the girls as quickly as I could.
He wouldn’t tell me what happened, just that I needed to get there, which only made my fear intensify. I don’t even know how long it took to get there; it was like my car floated there. My mind was not focused on the road; my thoughts were devoted only to Campbell.
When I pull onto the street, the red and blue lights that illuminate the sky only confirm my worry.
All I can think is that Cam needs me.
The emergency lights bounce off house windows, blinding me as I park and jump out of my car. There are so many cars and emergency personnel everywhere, I have to leave my car several hundred yards from the house.
I race down the sidewalk, sending a little prayer with each step that I will find her all right when I reach the house. I go unnoticed by police until I reach the taped off driveway. I duck under the yellow rope and am immediately met by armed officers.
“Sir, you need to stay behind the tape; this is a crime scene,” the man says matter-of-factly, placing a hand on my chest to stop me.
“No, I need to get in there,” I insist.
“Sorry, we are investigating a major incident that occurred here tonight. If you have any information that might be helpful to the case, we have detectives who would like to speak with you, but if not, we need you to stay behind the perimeter.
My stomach drops when I hear him describe the evening as an incident that would require detectives; it means that my entire world may have just been turned upside-down. The possibility that I might have lost Campbell barrels me over and brings tears to my eyes.
“The coroner is ready to move the body,” an officer announces out the front door to a group of officers in the driveway. “Can we get a path cleared for the van?”
My mind becomes dizzy with the possibility of unbearable grief and I struggle to swallow down the knot in my throat.
Unable to stand there any longer, I rush past the officer and push my way through the other emergency workers. I make it all the way to the front door before a swarm of hands restrain me.
“Get off me!” I shout. “My wife is in there!” I rage against their grip, but make little progress.
“Sir, you need to calm down. Who is your wife?” one of the officers asks.
“Campbell Ryan, where is she? Is she okay?” I ask frantically, straightening my clothes once they release me.
“The women were transported to the hospital. One was in critical condition when we got here. Paramedics had to do CPR upon arrival. I haven’t heard their current status though,” a detective explains. “Let me get some information for you and I can have an officer escort you to the hospital.”
I exhale as I bend at the waist and rest my hands on my knees to gain my bearings. “I need to get to her. Just tell me which hospital,” I murmur, trying to catch my breath.
I called Jen and Vivian on the way to hospital. They bombarded me with questions, but I had no answers for them. All I could offer was a location. I tried calling Royce’s phone, but it continually went straight to voicemail. As soon as I find a parking spot, I storm through the emergency room doors.
Brooks, Vivian, Casen, and Jen arrive just after I do, and together we flood the nurse’s station to inquire about Campbell and Carly.
“We need information about two women who were brought here,” Vivian says.
“What are their names and what is your relationship to the patients?” the nurse asks.
“Our friends--”
“My wife,” I say, speaking over the group.
Everyone’s mouths drop open as they slowly turn in disbelief to stare at me.