He released my hand. I hit play.
After a burst of interference—
"Hello? Hello? Is this emergency services? I'm at... South District, near the narrow alley behind Seventh Street. Someone's been shot."
A young girl's voice came through the speaker.
My breathing stopped.
That was Noelle's voice.
Seventh Street.
That alley.
The exact place where I'd been attacked all those years ago.
"Yes, miss, the ambulance is on its way. Please stay calm and don'thang up. You confirmed the location is Seventh Street? Can you tell me about the injured person's condition?"
"Yes, he's badly hurt... please hurry!"
"Alright, miss. Please stay on the line with me. The ambulance will be there in about five minutes..."
"Over here!"
The recording ended.
I sat frozen, finger still on the play button.
It was her.
Really her.
With trembling hands, I hit replay.
That voice came again.
Young, frightened, but incredibly determined.
For a bleeding stranger, she'd risked staying behind.
Called for help.
Wouldn't abandon him.
That person was Noelle. The "savior" I'd searched for three years, obsessed over for three years. It was Noelle—the one I'd personally dragged to hell, the one I'd hurt the most.
And I'd so easily believed Isabella's false information.
"No..."
My voice shattered.
"No... no..."
The recording kept looping.
"Please hurry..."
