Page 36 of The Night Shift

“Thinking.”

“About me, I hope.” I reallydohope.

“Is there a point to this call or can I go back to fantasizing about shoving a knife in your throat?”

“Kinky girl.”

“Goodbye, Carter.”

“Wait!” I say with hushed urgency.

“Whatis it?”

“I’m at the hospital.”

“The psychiatric kind?” she asks.

“The ‘I met with an accident’ kind.”

“Really?”

No, but I will be the second you catch me lounging in your bathroom. “Yup. Broke both my legs. It’s quite bad, actually. The doctors say I won’t be able to walk again.” I need to do something.Think, think, think.

“How the fuck did you manage that?”

Think, think, think. “Fell down the stairs daydreaming about your pretty face.” There’s a floss packet on her sink. I grab it. I peep out of her bathroom and throw the floss packet into her bedroom. It knocks over one of the frames on her bedside table. A loud noise. She stands up.

“Holly?” I say.

“Shut up. I gotta go.” She disconnects the call and walks towards her bedroom. If this doesn’t work, then I’m going to have to lie on the floor and pretend to be dead. Although, given whose house I’ve broken into, I won’t have to pretend for very long.

She nears her bedroom door. Her footsteps are as light as a cat’s. She doesn’t notice the fallen picture frame. She checks under her bed. Nothing. She checks inside her closet. Nothing. She checks behind her curtains. Also nothing.

Obviously.

She sits down on the edge of her bed. Her back is facing the door. This is my chance. With a deep breath, I inch awayfrom the bathroom door, my blood roaring in my ears. Water pools beneath my shoes as I gradually step outside, leaving a trail all over the floor. I grab the bedroom doorknob and just as I’m about to slam the door shut — I don’t. Even with her back towards me, I can make out she’s upset. Her shoulders are tense. Really tense. I think she’s about to cry. I’ve never seen Holly cry. I don’t know how I’ll react if I do. I should shut the door and leave her be. But what Iwantto do is go inside and give her a hug. I want to gently run my fingers over her spine and ask her what’s wrong. I want to make her some tea, listen to her problems, and offer a solution, but only if she wants me to.

It saddens me that I can’t do any of this. Not yet.

So, I pull the door shut and lock it from the outside. It’s fine. Holly’s the smartest person I know. She’ll figure something out. Guilt gnaws at me, but I stand firm, hoping that my trust in Holly’s resourcefulness isn't misplaced.

Angry footsteps come running towards the door. “You fucking asshole!” she shouts. “Let me out, you motherfucker! I’m going to gut you like a fucking pig! OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!”

Oh, dear.Tetchy Holly. Best to get out of here to give her some space. I ignore the violent banging on her door, grab the plastic bag with her clothes and start heading out.

By the time I'm out of her building and inside my car, my heart is beating so fast that my chest hurts. I set the bag down next to the passenger seat, letting the weight of what just happened sink in. The back of my throat burns. My heart hammers against my chest. The stale air inside the car presses against my skin like a moist towel, humid and suffocating. I feel sick. She really needs to change the access code to her flat. She needs to be more careful. Look how easily I got in and got out. What if it wasn’t me? What if it was someone else? A burglar? Or someone with a weapon? The thought sends a chill through my spine. I take out her top from the bag and take a deep inhale. Itstill smells like Holly. Daffodils and vanilla. It calms me down.It’s fine, I tell myself.It’s why you’re here. It’s why you do this. To protect her. To never let anything bad happen to her.

Quickly turning off the light inside my Prius, I pull away from the curb and crank up the heat. I play some music to help take more of the edge off. The title of the song flashes across the screen: One Direction’sKiss You. I start to hum along when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I take it out and see a text. Only this time it’s not for Holly. It’s for me.

+1 (917) 555-9012: may the best man win

Attached below is a picture of me exiting Holly’s building.

Chapter 7

Holly

Thirteen hours later