But Bella?—
I should be where Bella is.
But where did they take her?
I’m such an idiot for not asking.
I—
Chaos in my mind and body.
I can’t deal with any of it.
My breathing gets erratic.
Suddenly, a voice behind me, a voice that causes my body to freeze.
“Miss Phillips.”
4
VICTORIA
PLAYLIST: SCARBOROUGH FAIR / CANTICLE – SIMON & GARFUNKEL
Icannot believe my eyes when I recognise the woman who stumbled in front of my car. She is in visual distress, her eyes wide and her chest heaving up and down as if she doesn’t get enough air. Of all the things I have expected this night, stumbling upon her here in Belgravia, I could not have anticipated.
“Are you alright?” I ask her. She keeps staring at me without a word, white in the face, gasping for air, presumably close to fainting.
“Did something happen to you?” I ask, putting my hand on her arm.
Her eyes snap down, as if she could not believe the touch. Her eyes find mine again, almost pleading, and I cannot stop the sensation that briefly stirs through my core. I have always had a thing for pleading eyes, but this is not the situation for anything of the sort.
“My roommate,” she says, “I need—I—“ she glances around, almost disoriented.
“What is with her?” I ask.
Tears flood her eyes.
Oh dear.
I love a crying woman, but I prefer to make them do so out of pleasure, not out of distress.
“Come here,” I tell her, and guide her towards my car with my hand on her back. We are close to home after a very long day with the impending event, but I cannot leave her in this state.
Henry holds the door open for us, and I kindly push her inside. The moment she sits in her seat, her hands start fiddling. When I am seated, and Henry has closed the door, I grasp her hands.
“Tell me what happened,” I say. I cannot act unless I know what has her all wound up.
“Bella—she—I came to get her because she was so drunk, and—and—she was unconscious, the police, hospital, a man dead—I saw a dead man—“ Words stumble out of her mouth.
It is only then that I see how fragile she is. Not in a bad way, just unfiltered, unprotected, raw. Something so appealing to me that her hands in mine cause a prickling sensation to appear in my chest. It should not. I’d be her ruin.
“Do you know what hospital she was brought to?” I ask, and she shakes her head as more tears stream down her face.
“That’s alright, dearest, nothing we cannot find out,” I tell her.
“I—I think I need to go home,” she stammers.
