Page 52 of Haunt Me

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I drive like a madman down the highway, only slowing down slightly when I hit the midday traffic rush. My eyes are frantically searching for a slender figure on the median between the high-speed two-way lanes.

Impossible as it sounds, I think that’s where Eden is right now. At least, that’s what she told me on the phone.

I don’t even know how she got there—or why.

I can’t quite wrap my mind around what is happening right now, but I’m too busy freaking out about how I’m going to stop the car to get her in once I find her. Cars are zooming by me as I try to slow down enough to look for her, and I almost get hit twice.

Then, there, between the sea of cars, a flash of brown. Her coat.

She is stranded in the middle of the highway, in a sea of fast moving car. She looks so small; she would be invisible if I hadn’t been looking for her. My heart leaps in my throat. She is small and lost and about to be blown to bits by the speed of the cars speeding past her. This is no place for a pedestrian, and there is no way for her get out of it on foot. How did she get in it in the first place? And how did she have the presence of mind to call me?

I see her swaying in the middle of the honking cars. She doesn’t know what to do.

Idon’t know what to do.

I slow down, preparing to stop, but a car nearly plows me over. I speed again. This is insane. No other car is slowing down, and there is too much traffic for me to be able to pull over. My heart is thrumming in my ears.

“I can do this,” I murmur between clenched teeth.

I know I might die.

I know a sane person would leave this highway asap and call the police. But I am not a sane person right now. I am a person who has officially run out of time. As I frantically glance at Eden standing there, frozen in place, cars rushing past her, making the air swirl and lift her skirt, there is no time left for hesitation. I push down on the brakes as far as I can go without completely stopping, and open the driver’s door while the car is still in motion.

The minute I reach her, I jump out of the car, not stopping to pull the handbrake. I grab her by the waist and drag her inside. She falls on top of me, and the next second my foot is on the pedal, speeding and swerving cars at the same time. As we quickly gain speed and avoid the danger of being crushed by tons of metal, Eden crawls to the seat next to the driver’s, and just crouches there, knees on the seat, hair in front of her face, panting frantically, as if there is not enough air.

I try to keep my eyes on the road so as not to get us killed, but they keep drifting to her. There is nowhere to pull over, not yet.

She makes a choking sound as if she is drowning.

“Are you ok?” My voice is gruff. Scared.

“I don’t know.”

The car swerves; I quickly right the wheel. “You got hurt? Let me see.” I reach out a hand to her.

“No, I… My heart is beating so fast.”

I press my palm against her ribs, like I did once before, and hold it there until the manic fluttering subsides. I can’t take my eyes off the road; I want to, but I can’t. “Better?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, I am so stupid.”

“You are not. There’s only one thing that matters right now: Did you get hurt? In any way?”

She shakes her head and I see it in my peripheral vision. I exhale in relief, but my breath catches. I can’t do this. I need a minute. The adrenaline rush is fading fast, and I’m crashing—and if I am, she must be too. She is staring vacantly straight ahead, her face stony and white.

The traffic subsides a bit after ten minutes, so I finally slow down, then pull over on the curb. I have no idea where we are: I also don’t care.

We are alive.

At least I hope we are.

“I need to check you everywhere, baby,” I say when she folds herself into a tiny ball, like the day we met. “I need to know if you’re hurt. I’m sorry, but you’re in shock, so you might be hurt and not even realize it until it’s too late. I… I won’t be able to breathe unless I’m sure you’re not injured.”

She uncoils a little, so I carefully inspect her.

I touch her gently on the arms, the stomach, the legs. “Does this hurt? Does this hurt?” When I get to her heart, that’s the only time she says yes.

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