Page 163 of Dance of Thorns

LARK.

My gaze drifts higher, and I groan when I see her lying in the tub.

Motionless. Pale.

So fucking pale.

Then I see her arm and a roar thunders from my throat.

GET. THE FUCK. UP.

I need to get up. I need to get to her.

She’s dying.

Blood flows like Christmas ribbons from the gash on her wrist. The tub faucet is still on, and red-tinged water spills over the side onto the floor, mixing with Lark's and Melinda’s blood. turning the whole room red.

Move, motherfucker, or she fucking dies.

It takes everything I have, but I get one knee on the ground.

Then the other.

My legs feel weak as fuck. No way can I stand.

But I can damn well crawl.

I groan, pain taking my breath away and making my vision cut in and out. I keep moving, shuffling forward on hands and knees until I’m past the hardwood of the bedroom and onto the bloodied, wet bathroom tiles.

“Stay with me, baby!” I grunt through the agony wrapping like a noose around my throat. “Fucking stay with me!”

I’m having a lot of trouble filling my lungs, and I don’t think it’s just the pain. But I don’t have time to worry about that right now.

Blood soaks my clothes as I drag myself through the horror-show scene, past Melinda’s body, past the knife on the floor.

“LARK!” I roar, reaching for the edge of the tub and choking as white-hot lighting explodes through my shoulder.

I keep pulling, screaming through the agony as I lift myself up until I can get one knee to the edge.

I grunt and flip over the edge of the tub, splashing into the blood-red water with Lark. She doesn’t move.

“STAY WITH ME, BABY!!”

I shove myself behind her, between her and the tub. The knife is still in my back: I’m made aware of that when it bangs against the porcelain.

I think I black out for a second then.

But I come to again, sputtering, fresh blood dripping from my mouth as I blink away the agony and wrap my arms around her.

“Stay with me, baby,” I choke as I reach over the side of the tub and grab a fistful of Melinda’s blouse. With a grunt and a yank, I tear off a big strip of it and then lift Lark’s arm out of the water.

Fucking God, there’sso much blood.

My vision starts to blur again as I wrap the makeshift bandage around Lark’s wound. I tie it as tightly as I can, then lift her arm above the level of her heart and keep it there.

“C’mon, baby!” I choke, the taste of copper filling my mouth. I wheeze as I try to suck in air.

“C’mon, Lark!” I rasp, slapping her cheek with my other hand. “COME ON!”