We all chuckle but still make haste up the stairs to the bathroom, knowing deep inside our guts that if Jackson asked for help it must be life or death. I’m not sure he would ask for help even then.
Ren walks in from the upstairs balcony, fiddling with his clown nose, and nearly collides with Ilkay. Chloe is right behind him.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, but no one answers him. He’s just not important enough.
A few meters from the bathroom I stop dead in my tracks. Fuck, I can’t go through this again.
My father hurries past me with Uncle John short on his heels. Logan sprints by with the medical box in hand.
As if my legs are weighted down, I slowly take one step at a time. Please, please … let him be okay … I don’t have space for another demon in my head.
I peep carefully around the door frame, afraid of what I might see. I’m not squeamish, just fearful of losing another person close to me.
“Looks like a knife wound.” Ilkay and my dad are kneeling next to Jackson’s body, shouting out instructions to Axel, who is handing them items from the medical bag.
Jackson is lying flat on his front, gurgling raggedly, obviously battling to breathe. His head is turned to the side, eyes closed, his face pale and covered with sweat. One arm is stretched out, clinging to his phone. Luckily, he was able to call his twin.
Blood oozes from a puncture wound in his back, and pinkish foam hisses and bubbles from it. Ilkay takes a piece of plastic and some tape, places the plastic over the wound, and tapes it to 3 sides. The bubbles slowly subside. Dad keeps his eyes on Jackson’s vitals, checking them regularly.
Logan and Enrique are standing on the side with their uncle, who is on the phone, none of them looking all that well.
“The ambulance is on its way,” Uncle John says calmly, sliding his phone in his pocket.
Mel speeds wildly past me, stops, and stares. I grab her with such force that it hurts when she collides with my chest. The area behind us floods with people who stand in silence as if holding their breaths.
“Whoa, angel. Where are you running to?” She struggles to get loose, but I just hold on tighter. Small fists slam onto my chest, but I just increase my grip.
“Calm down!” I softly shout at her and the intensity of my voice scares me, but it has the wanted effect, she freezes and collapses against my body.
Shaking. She closes her eyes and drops her temple to my chest while facing her brother. Then she horrifies both of us by bursting into tears.
“Angel, he’s okay.” He has to be. “The doctors are busy.” Please let him not die.
“He got the wrong twin,” Mel sobs in my arms. “He should have killed the other one.” Okay, she’s either extremely mad at Enrique or in shock. Her soggy eyes are bright blue, like the ocean on a sunny day, and tears slowly make their way down her cheeks. I wipe it with my thumb while swallowing down the lump in my throat.
She begins to cry harder and seems unable to stop. It hurts my heart. No, it fucking breaks my heart.
“Mel, listen to me,” I duck down a little to ensure we are eye to eye. Her face is a mess. Her tears smudged the black makeup around her eyes to form long black stains down her white cheeks. Fuck, it pains right into my soul.
“I’ll stab the other twin if that’s what you want. Hell, I’ll stab all your brothers. Just please, please, stop crying.” Pretty sure it came out wrong.
“He told me and I didn’t listen.” She sobs again but at least she’s not shaking anymore, but I think she might be in shock because she is not making any sense. I push her head against my chest and hold it there, my fingers tangle in her hair.
Ilkay slices a cut between his brother’s ribs and opens it with his finger. Mel jabs in a long wail of air through her snotty nose.
Ilkay sticks a tube inside the hole and blood and air start running out – the distinctive iron scent mixes with the acidic smell of fear in the air. Jackson’s pale, sweaty body lies silently amidst a sea of scarlet liquid expanding over the floor tiles.
Suddenly, he gulps a deep breath and it’s as if every spectator puffs out the nervous tension they were holding in.
Except me.
A demon catches hold of my throat and squeezes … jamming his guilty claws tighter and tighter constricting the air to my lungs. God not now. A ball of fire burns in the pit of my gut. Panicking, I press my nose in her hair and close my eyes. I gulp like a fish on land, taking in her scent, trying to ride it out. Hoping no one would notice.
I squeeze my eyes tighter but the images slap me; the memories claw my mind. Choking dust. Pain. The stench of blood and fear.
And death.
I’m feeling dizzy. Helpless. In, out, in, out. Deep breaths. Deeper.
Flowers. A wildflower bouquet. For some reason, the essence of her aroma drives the demon back into the shadows, and I’m able to breathe again. The fire in my gut is now only a smolder.
“D … he sent me a message! I should have listened.” Lungs now filling with air, my mind gets back on track, and her words slowly reach my thoughts.
D. The stalker.
Sent a message.
Paramedics arrive at the scene, and with the doctors’ help, they put Jackson on the stretcher. Dad checks his vitals one last time, while Ilkay puts a mask over his face to give him some life-sustaining oxygen, his breathing is more normal now. So is mine.
“Let’s go!” Ilkay shouts to the medics. They lift the stretcher.
Jackson removes the mask and gestures for Axel to move closer. He grabs his friend’s arm and places something in his hand.
They run out, Dad and Ilkay following. I stand put, still holding Mel. Her phone. I need to check her phone.
“Mel.”
“Mm.” She doesn’t move.
“Give me your phone.” As if my words knocked her from the shock, she pulls free, scratches around in her bag, and holds her phone out to me. I go into WhatsApp.
D Stalker: Mayday! Mayday! A little actor is dying!
“He told me,” she rumbles, “I ignored it.”
I quickly look up at Enrique, sitting against the wall with his hands in his hair. If I’m reading the stupid message right, he was the target, but because they look identical tonight, his twin got the blow instead.
“See,” she starts crying again, “It’s my fault.” She sniffs and grabs my cloak. Fuck I hate tears. Especially her tears. She leans back into me … and now is not the time, but she fucking fits me perfectly. I wrap my arms around her and hold on.