What would she find in there?
The thought flashed across her mind and she felt her stomach drop through the floor.
No. Don’t think.
Just get to him, Eleanor.
She shook her head and forced her legs back into action. Her entire being became laser-focused on getting into the house.
The door opened at her touch.
‘Hello?’ She cursed herself for the fear that had crept into her voice.
Silence.
Her heartbeat rang out loudly in her ears.
‘Fin?’ She peered into the lounge, scanning for any sign of life. ‘Fin.’ Her voice echoed through the empty room.
‘Up here.’ A faint cry, barely audible, carried down from upstairs.
Her body was moving before her mind could even register. She was in complete survival mode, running on nothing but fear and instinct.
‘I’m here. Don’t worry, I’m here.’
The smell hit her as she reached the top step. It took everything not to gag as the heady mix of vomit and alcohol assaulted her senses.
She paused at his bedroom door, her pale shaking hand lingering for just a moment in mid-air.
He needs you, Eleanor.
She closed her eyes and stepped into the room.
It was pitch black. The curtains were drawn and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. The air was thick, cloying almost. Instantly she felt the walls closing in on her, and the urge to run back into the fresh safety of outside was overwhelming.
‘I’m going to turn the light on, OK? I need to be able to see you.’
A muffled groan of acknowledgement came from somewhere in the depths of the darkness.
The moment she flicked the switch, the true mess of the situation confronted her. Clothes covered every inch of the floor. Mixed in amongst them were piles of sick and splashes of blood.
Blood? Why is there blood?
And then Eleanor saw him. Lying in the corner of the room sprawled out like a rag doll, limbs splayed at all angles.
She ran to him immediately. His head was cut and bruised and there was a pool of sick gathering by his side. She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want to show any sign that she wasn’t in control.
Her friend.
Her beautiful best friend.
‘Fin. Can you sit up for me?’ She gently cradled his head in her lap, stroking his matted damp hair.
‘Mhm.’ His eyes flickered open. The piercing green met hers. A flash of consciousness. ‘Elles,’ he mumbled. ‘Please help.’
A sob escaped from her. ‘It’s OK. You’re OK.’ She tried to soothe him. ‘But I’m going to have to call for help. I can’t do this by myself.’
His hand grasped her arm so tightly she could feel his nails digging deep into her skin. ‘No!’ he cried, panic pouring out of him. ‘Eleanor, please. Just me and you. Just us … like old times.’
