Page 140 of Bad Blood

Liam: Don’t wake me up if I’m sleeping

I stuff my phone in my pocket as we stop at the curb. I glance out the windshield and see we’re a couple of blocks away from Brighton’s place. There’s a police officer with a flashlight directing traffic to a side street. That’s when my eyes land on the yellow caution tape.

“What’s going on?”

The cabbie turns in his seat to face me. “You’re gonna have to ask him.” He points at the cop and holds out his other hand as I reach for my wallet. I pay and slide out of the backseat. The cab flips around, heading the opposite way as I stop next to the officer.

“Is everything okay?” As soon as the words slip from my mouth, I know how stupid I sound. Of course things aren’t okay. There’s a freaking police officer and barrier blocking off Brighton’s street.

His eyes scour over me, and his jaw flexes. “You’re gonna need to keep moving.” He shines his flashlight in the opposite direction of where I need to be and signals for me to go where he points. A crowd has assembled on the sidewalk, and I stop next to them, overhearing some of their suspicions.

“It’s another body,” says a woman in her bathrobe, large purple tube-like rollers in her hair. She tightens the belt around her waist, wrapping her arms around herself for extra protection.

“A female,” someone else inserts.

“I called in the gunshots,” a bald man in plaid pajama pants says.

“And the screams.” The woman tucked under his arm adds.

A tall, slim man pushes his way closer to the caution tape. He stuffs his hands in his pockets as a woman approaches him. “They said she’s from the hospital,” she whispers. “Do you think this is related to the murders in the news?”

My legs turn to liquid, and I sink to the sidewalk, knocking into a couple of bystanders as I go down.

“Hey, man, you okay?” A guy stoops, resting his hand on my shoulder.

“Just need a sec.”

Body.

Female.

Hospital.

This is not happening.

I drop my head between my legs.

Stars swim in my vision.

I stop listening.

Fuck.

No.

I can’t go through this again.

What the fuck did I do to deserve this? How many people do I have to lose?

“Breathe in,” someone says.

There’s an expectant pause.

There are hands on top of my shoulders. “Breathe out.” It’s the same voice. I try to focus on it, not the rhythm buzzing in my ears.

Someone takes my arm, hoisting me to my feet. “Take all the time you need.”

I can’t do this. My eyes water. My tongue is heavy.

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