“No!” I cry, skidding to a halt and bending my body, bringing my stomach in as much as I can to avoid the blade as she charges forward.
“Bitch!” she screams. “You won’t have him!” Her body collides with mine, knocking me to the side on a grunt. I gasp and feel at my stomach, searching for any blood. I can’t see anything. Nothing obvious, but I don’t look for long. I haven’t got the luxury of time. I run back to my apartment, too aware of the damage she could do to me if I don’t get away. I bolt the door and run to my window, gasping for breath.
There’s no sign of her anywhere. I have another quick check over my abdomen and freeze, waiting for any pain to kick in. Nothing. Tears of relief burst from my eyes as I grab my phone and dial Jack, returning to the window to look for her.
“Hey, baby,” he answers, sounding happy. Content.
“Stephanie was here!” I shout urgently, exhausted, my breath loud and strained. “Jack, she has a knife. She attacked me with a knife.”
“Jesus!” he chokes, and the background noise of his engine gets louder, evidence of him hitting the floor with his foot on the gas pedal. “Where are you?”
“Inside. I got her out and locked myself inside.”
“Are you hurt?”
“Nothing major.”
“Nothing major?”
“A few scratches, that’s all.” I look down at my arm and see evidence of her nails, just like I’ve seen on Jack’s body. “She’s not pregnant, Jack. She stole my pregnancy test from my handbag.” I return my attention to the window, my eyes darting left to right, searching for her outside. She’s gone.
“What?”
“The pregnancy test. It was mine.”
“But she did it while I was there.”
“Did you watch her? On the toilet?” It sounds like a stupid question, but she could have switched them.
He’s silent for a second before he whispers, “No. She was in the bathroom. I waited outside.”
I close my eyes, reaching up to my cheek and pressing into the burn. “It was mine,” I repeat quietly. “She knows it’s me. And she knows I’m pregnant.”
I hear his sharp inhale. “Call the police. I’m around the corner. Don’t open the door until I’m there.” He hangs up before waiting for my agreement, and I watch the street from the window as I dial 999 and bring the phone to my ear. When I see his Audi round the corner, I nearly fold with relief.
“Emergency. Which service do you require?”
“Police.”
Jack zooms into a parking space across the street and jumps out, heading quickly around the car to the road. But he pulls to a stop abruptly, looking over his shoulder, something snatching his attention. My heart stops in my chest as he backs up, turning toward something. Or someone. I can’t see who; there’s a van blocking my view, but I don’t need to see. She’ll be waiting for him.
“Jack!” I shout, banging at the window. “She has a knife!”
He doesn’t look my way. He can’t hear me. I start to tear up as I drop the phone, then rush for the door and unbolt it, running out onto the street.
“Jack!” I yell, frantic. He looks to me, frowning as I leap into the road just as someone walks out from behind the van. But it’s not Stephanie.
My brain vaguely registers Lizzy and her widening eyes at the sight of me running across the road toward them, and my mind pulls up, as do my legs, slowing me down until I come to a confused stop. I look to Lizzy, then to Jack. He’s frozen in place, his mouth slightly open as he looks down the street. It’s then I hear the screeching of tires.
I turn slowly, seeing a car speeding toward me.
“Annie!” Jack roars. I hear his shoes hitting concrete as the car comes closer and closer.
“Annie!”
I’m a statue.
“Annie, move!”
Jack’s hysterical plea is the last I hear.
My bones, my flesh, my head…they all scream on impact.
But I don’t feel a thing.
Chapter 28
Beep. It’s all I can hear. The damn sound has embedded itself into my brain—the short, sharp, repetitive shots of noise assaulting my ears. I’m sure that’s all I’m going to hear for eternity.
My world is black and I can’t move. My body feels heavy—so so heavy, and my head is pounding terribly. My brain feels as if it’s been bouncing off my skull. Everything hurts—my head, my bones…even my skin.
Why am I in so much pain? Where am I? The blackness engulfing me shows no sign of fading. There’s no light anywhere to be found, and no matter how hard I try to convince myself to move, I can’t. My eyes won’t open and I can’t talk. Everything is failing me.
My mind descends into panic, and then quickly my panic turns to pure, raw fear. In my head I’m falling to pieces, hysterical and frightened. I’m crying but I’m not crying. I’m flailing but I’m not moving. It’s my own personal hell, and I begin to wonder if that’s where I actually am. Am I dead?
Beep!
That sound. It’s unbearable.
Beep!
A spasm in my eyelid surprises me, and I wait, wondering if I imagined it. I push my fear away and wait some more. Another twitch, this time in both eyelids. I focus, concentrate hard on the muscles in my eyes, willing them to open.
I’m filled with hope when I detect another spasm—small but definitely there. I get a glimpse of light, spurring me on. I need more. I can’t bear this blackness any longer. I shove the pain away and gather my determination and strength.
Beep!
My eyes open, seeming to wake my lungs as they do. Air gushes into me and my body inflates. My eyes quickly close again on a flinch. The combination of harsh light and searing pain bolting through my body makes it too difficult to keep them open.
I can’t scream. I can’t move to curl into a ball and curb the agony. My eyes fill with tears behind my lids, and the tears force their way to the corners of my eyes and trickle down the sides of my face into my ears. I work to regulate my breathing into smooth, even inhales and exhales, and the pain subsides a little.
Then I begin to open my eyes again, bit by little bit, squinting back the glare. My surroundings come into view. I don’t recognize anything. It looks like a hospital room.
Beep!
If I could make anything work, I’d sit up. Or get out of bed and find someone to tell me what on earth is going on. I try to turn my head and the movement triggers a wave of pain that rips through me again. I scream in my head. Oh God, I’ve never felt pain like this. More tears come, blurring my vision.
Beep!
And then I see him.
He’s slumped in the chair next to me, asleep, his head propped on his hand, his elbow on the arm of the chair. He looks haunted, even in his sleep. His skin is almost as gray as I know his eyes to be, and his scruff is the scruffiest I’ve ever seen. He’s wearing old jeans and a white T-shirt, and a blanket is spread across his lap.
My Jack.
Suddenly, the pain doesn’t feel so brutal.