“How long ago did this happen?” I ask, pouring some alcohol onto a cotton pad.
“Yesterday,” he rasps.
My brows furrow. Yesterday, and his wound is already looking like this? “Was it a rabid animal? Have you had your tetanus?” I ask as I place the cotton on the wound. “This may hurt a little.”
He doesn’t even flinch. Alcohol on an open wound stings like a bitch. I’ve seen even the toughest people screech in pain when it comes to cleaning wounds.
“Not an animal,” he slurs.
“Where does it hurt?” I ask.
“Everywhere. My body is burning. On fire,” he rambles, his head dripping with sweat.
He’s delirious, burning up with fever. Clearly, he has an infection that’s spreading. He needs a hospital.
I jump up and bang on the door. “Hey, open up!”I yell, but no one comes. I bang over and over again to get their attention, but still nothing. I rest my head against the cold metal door. “I’m going to kill Suzie. No, I’m going to cut off the head of her Harry Styles doll first, and then I’m going to kill her,” I seethe.
CHAPTER TWO
EVELYNN
I bangedand banged on that door, and not one of those assholes came. All I could hear was them laughing and partying the night away. Fuckers, the lot of them. It’s been, what, an hour, and Suzie hasn’t even bothered to come and find me. She’s probably balls deep with Mr. T by now.
The guy on the bed groans again. I walk over to him to check him over.
“I’m sorry, buddy, but your friends will not open the door,” I sigh. I lift the bandage again to check. “How in the fuck?” I breathe.
His wound has spread, black rot eating away at the flesh.
“You need to get to a hospital. Now,” I say, panic in my voice. I haven’t seen anything like this, and I’ve worked in the ER. There isn’t much I haven’t come across.
I rush to the door and bang on it again. “Hey!” I call out. I step back and kick the handle, not sure exactly what I’m doing, but at this point, I’ll try anything.
The music suddenly cuts out. I pause, pressing my ear to the door, flinching when I hear rounds of gunshots and screaming. My heart thunders in my chest.
Shit. Suzie.
I yank on the handle. I kick it. Panic crawls over my body. I claw my fingers through my hair as I look around the room for something, anything to bust this door open with. I spot the chair in the corner and leap for it. Grabbing it, I turn and hurl it at the door. It hits with force but does no damage.
The screams grow louder, the gunshots closer.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I whirl around, still searching, hunting for anything. There is no window. Nothing.
“They’re here, they’re coming for me,” the guy whimpers.
“Who?” I ask.
He tries to push himself up. I rush over to him, trying to stop him.
“You are in no condition to move,” I state.
“I need to hide, need to get out of here,” he pants, his hand at his side, his face twisted in agony.
I’m about to argue with him and order him back to bed when the door flies open, swinging so hard it slams into the wall.
“I’m too late,” he breathes.
I look to the doorway as a shadow appears. I blink, squinting. The guy next to me starts trembling.
