Page 90 of Shameless

I shake my head, to dispel the fog that must be caused by the lack of oxygen in my system.

Woof, woof.

Again, Napoleon barks and looks at the door.

“Are you trying to tell me something?”

Woof, woof.

“Do you want me to follow you outside?” Then I remember. “Jenna! Are you trying to take me to Jenna?”

Woof, woof.

Napoleon looks distressed, almost frantic. Jenna must be in trouble.

I don’t know how I do it, but I scramble onto my feet, inhaling sharply when my ears ring so loud that I can’t hear the fireworks outside.

I stumble past Evan. His eyes are fixed on me and the fucker has the gall to ask for my help.

“Lula…”

I turn around, still unsteady on my feet and walk toward him. “Did Napoleon hurt you?” I ask. “Let me see.”

He falls for it, I can’t believe it. He takes his hands away from his balls and that’s when I strike.

I rear my foot back as much as possible and kick him as hard as I can.

His scream is deafening and if I wasn’t worried about Jenna, I’d stay and take another shot at his junk. Just to make sure he isn’t going to try anything like what he just did to me with someone else any time soon.

I throw one last glance at Evan and I can’t help but smile at the thought that Stefan would be proud of me. We spent countless summers kicking a soccer ball at a small goal in his backyard and he taught me how to kick a penalty.

Woof.

Napoleon is waiting for me by the boathouse door and I follow him outside into the night.

The little pooch runs along the dock and I struggle to keep up at first. His pointy ears are folded backwards, giving him an aerodynamic look, as if Naps was trying to go as fast as he possibly can.

He stops suddenly and sits by the edge of the high concrete deck, looking down and barking in alarm.

My heart stops when I reach him.

The first thing I spot is the white fabric of Jenna’s dress. Then I see the blood. A lot of it.

I don’t understand until I spot an old, rusty anchor by her side, there’s blood on that too.

I cover my mouth with my hands, trying to keep the tears that are welling in my eyes from blurring my vision.

All I can think is that Jenna must have wanted to get into the water and fell down from the dock to the small lip of concrete at the end.

The wind has died down luckily, or the waves might have reached her.

I don’t know what to do. I’m so panicked, I can’t think straight. Do I leave Napoleon here with Jenna and run to get help, or do I go check on Jules’s daughter and send Napoleon to alert someone?

I decide I need to see if Jenna is breathing. If she isn’t, CPR might make the difference between life and death.

“Napoleon,” I say, picking up the chihuahua and looking into his brown eyes. “Go find help. I need to check on Jenna.”

He takes off at lightning speed the second I set him down.

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