later, I’m pulling up to her apartment and park in the nearest spot. It’s the nicest, safest complex we could find. I put my bike in park and jab the kickstand down on the fresh pavement.
I don’t wait for the guys to park. I throw my helmet down, smashing it against the ground, and I run. I jump over the hedges, landing right before the staircase. I grip the rail and take the steps at lightning speed. There are scratches against the steps, scuffs against the walls from people moving furniture in and out. When I get to the top, I use the rail as leverage to swing myself around and sling myself down the hall. My breath is coming out in short pants, and I can hear Badge on the phone with 911 requesting assistance and an ambulance. I don’t know how he knows that. Maybe it’s the cop in him; all I know is that I’m thankful because every second matters.
Her door is the last one on the right, and when I get to it, I don’t bother grabbing the frosted silver handle or knocking. I lift my leg and shoot it forward. My boot connects with the wood right next to the lock. The door shatters. Pieces of it fly and hit me in the face. The hinges groan, trying to support what’s left of the door. I step inside, the silence worrisome.
“Jo? Jo, are you here? Talk to me,” I call out, my boots crunching against the debris on the floor as I step inside, waiting for her sweet, quiet voice. I glance around, looking for some sort of intrusion, struggle, anything that might tell my instincts that this isn’t what I think it is. But as I head toward the bedroom, an invisible wall of what smells like blood smacks me right in the face. “Jo,” her name leaves my lips as a realization hits me. I launch forward and push the door open, and what I see almost has me crumbling to my knees.
Time slows when I see her pale, nearly translucent body sitting up in the bed. Her hair hangs in her face, and blood drips off the mattress and onto the floor. “Jo! Fucking hell, Jo. Tongue! Someone! Get the fuck in here,” I roar so loud my throat becomes raw.
I’ve seen a lot of shit in my life but seeing someone give up because the struggle is so bad is new to me. There’s always a first for everything but seeing Jo like this guts me. I hurry to her side, and I slip on the blood under my boots. I fall backward, slamming onto my back, and my head hits the floorboards with a hard thwack. I turn over and find myself in more blood. It’s wet and still a bit warm, telling me it hasn’t been too long since the blood has left her body. I push myself up slowly and fall backward, landing directly on the bed so I can no longer slip.
I flip onto my hands and knees and crawl to her, immediately turning her arms over. “What did you do, Jo? What did you do?” I gasp when I see the long, jagged wounds on her arms. “Jesus Christ. Jo? Hey, Jo, can you hear me?” I grip her chin with my fingers, but her eyes are closed.
“Holy shit. Oh my God,” Badge exclaims from behind me. “An ambulance is on the way.”
I lay my head on her chest and place my fingers against her neck to try to get a pulse.
Thump.
A second of silence.
Thump.
“Her heart rate is too slow. She won’t make it to the hospital. Someone get me a towel and rip it in long pieces. I need something to stop the bleeding.” I’d use my shirt, but it’s covered in her blood and sticking to my skin. I lay my palm over half of her wounds on either arm, but it doesn’t do a thing since the cut is so long and deep. Something shines out of the corner of my eye, and in her palm is a straight razor, splattered in blood. “You could have called me,” I choke, trying as hard as I possibly can to stop the emotions from pouring out of me. “I’m your friend. We are your friends. Jesus, Jo. You can’t fucking die like this; not after everything…” She’s lost so much blood, I’m not confident she’s going to make it another thirty minutes without a transfusion.
“Here.