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“What do you mean? What’s wrong?”
I don’t need to hear the answer to know I need to get to her. My feet are already moving, my body responding to the fear in her voice before my mind can fully process it.
“Are you alright?” I ask again when she doesn’t say anything.
“No, I… I…” A slight sob on the other end of the phone makes my chest tighten in a painful knot.
“Where are you?” I grab my bag from the locker, slam it shut and walk quickly back onto the gym floor, raising my arm to grab Mike’s attention.
“Home,” she whimpers. “Marcus, I’m scared.”
“Don’t move. I’ll be right there.”
I hang up the phone and run up to Mike, already pulling my coat on.
“Hey sorry man, I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow!” And I’m out the door before he can respond, keys already in my hand.
It’s a twenty-minute drive from Salford to Lila’s apartment on the other side of town, but I go as fast as I can, taking shortcuts where I know them and avoiding the traffic of town, running two red lights in the process. There’s no parking in front of her building so I’m forced to park down on the next street, and I sprint to her door, pressing the buzzer repeatedly, praying to God that she’s safe.
The door buzzes and I fly up the four flights of stairs, taking three steps at a time until I’m at her door. I knock urgently, my mind running with a million different scenarios.
“Who is it?” her voice sounds from the other side of the door.
“It’s Marcus.”
The door swings open and Lila grabs my arm and pulls me in, slamming the door shut behind us as she quickly locks it and bolts it.
“What’s going on? Are you alright?” Adrenaline courses through my veins, but at least she doesn’t appear to be injured.
She turns to face me and the look of raw terror on her face makes my stomach churn. Her complexion has gone pale, and her eyes are red and puffy.
Her back against the door, she slides down to the floor as a sob escapes her throat, her shoulders shaking as tears roll down her cheeks.
Fuck. What the fuck’s happened?
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m here.” I lower myself down on the floor beside her and pull her into me. Her body shakes with each ragged breath. “I’ve got you.”
A wave of nausea rises to my chest as I try to imagine what could have driven her to this state.
I hold her for several minutes, louder sobs gradually softening into gentle whimpers as I stroke her hair. The tension in her shoulders begins to ease, her body slowly melting against mine.
“Can you tell me what happened?” I ask eventually, keeping my voice soft and steady.
She lifts her head off my shoulder, wiping her tear-streaked face with trembling fingers. Her eyes meet mine, red-rimmed and puffy, marred by fear but also – something else. Maybe hope – and trust. Trust in me.
“I know who it was.” Her voice is barely a whisper.
“Know who what was?”
“Last night.”
My breath catches. “What? Who?”
“His name is Chris. He’s…” She swallows hard. “He’s an idiot I went out with back in school. I haven’t seen him since I was sixteen, which is why I didn’t recognise him.”
Hope rises in my heart. She’s remembered. This nightmare can be over soon.
“Have you called the police?” I ask.