Page 41 of Bleeding Hearts
“Nothing good,” Lally replies at my side. She’s surprisingly quiet, her eyes locked on the flames and glass. She’s pale and frozen for once. I don’t know where the daredevil went, but I see fear in her eyes—of dying.
“Let her go first!” someone calls and points at Lally. “She’s top of the board anyway!”
Other cries join in until people push her forward, and me along with her since I’m holding her, all demanding she go first since they are scared.
Her hand shakes in mine, and I know she can’t do it, so I step up, drawing their attention. Tugging off my shoes and socks, I toss them aside then step up to the starting point even as she calls after me.
The crowd becomes silent as I lift my foot over the first section of broken glass. “She owes you nothing. You signed up for this game yourself. Why should she be the one to take all the risks just because you’re afraid? The game is called Risk, but you demand others take it for you. You’re fucking weak.” I meet Lally’s gaze for a moment. Her eyes are wide and scared as she tries to get to me, but the crowd blocks her way. I smile. “I’ll risk anything for you.”
I put my bare foot down and feel the glass crunch under it, then I take another step forward. I try to keep my steps light as I balance with my arms out. Flames lick at the sides of my feet, burning and heating my soles, so I hurry forward. I movequickly, only for one sharp point to stab right into the center of my sole. My hiss rings out as I almost fall to the side, hopping on one foot. When I lift it, I see the palm-sized chunk jutting from my skin. Biting my tongue until I taste blood, I wrap my hand around it and swiftly pull it out, toss it aside, and set my foot back down. Pain spreads through it, but I move forward as the heat grows unbearable. I slip and slide, my blood making the glass hard to walk on.
I feel more glass cutting into the balls and soles of my feet, and I whimper. “Alice!” I hear Lally yell, but I keep going until I reach the other side and fall forward. Arms catch me as I wince, barely able to put weight on my feet. I feel blood coating them and dripping as I turn and meet Lally’s gaze across the glass path, forcing a smile to quell her worry.
“I’m okay!” I tell her, and it’s like she finally takes a breath, still hesitating at the other side.
“She did it!” someone close to me shouts.
“Let me see!” another adds.
Hands drag me forward as I’m tugged into the crowd and passed around like a toy, but the touches that were celebratory turn mean and wandering. One uses the anonymity of the crowd to slip up my skirt and pinch my ass.
It’s strange how quickly a crowd can turn on you, how becoming one of the faceless masses makes them lose all sense of morality and allows them to commit actions they normally wouldn’t.
“Lally!” I yell, struggling in their arms, but there are too many of them.
“Let her go now!” I hear her shout, but they ignore her, and another hand slides up my skirt and tries to push between my clenched thighs. I spy her through gaps in the crowd to see her hesitating over the glass.
The only way to get to me is across the glass. Determination hardens her features, and without another beat of hesitation, she slams her foot onto it and heads my way. She races across it so fast, she moves like lightning, and when she reaches the other side, she wades into the crowd in search of me.
She grabs a hand reaching for me and yanks it back, a cry of pain escaping whoever it is as her other hand grabs me and pulls me behind her. One of her feet kicks out, and a circle forms around her. “Enough!” she roars. “The next person to touch her will be thrown off the edge of the roof. Do you hear me?”
They back away slowly, and their attention is soon diverted to the next person crossing. She drags me over to the back wall where the door is. I wince with each step, leaving bloody footprints behind, and when my back presses against the wall, she runs her eyes over me.
“Are you hurt? Alice, look at me. Are you hurt?” Her words are frantic as she slides her hands over every inch of me, searching for a wound. I don’t mention the slight stinging and bruises I will have from their hands, and instead, I just shake my head, not wanting to upset her more. She slumps in relief, but then her eyes land on the ground and she drops to her knees.
“Lally—” She lifts one of my feet, and I get a good look at the bloody sole. The first glance sends pain spiraling through me, as if seeing it finally causes me to feel it.
“Shit, babe,” she hisses. “Look at your feet.”
“It’s okay,” I murmur, but I’m wincing in pain. Her face closes down, and her hands grip my hips before she lifts me onto a security box. “Stay,” she demands.
She rushes away, and when she returns, she has her shoes on and mine in her hand. Lally glances at the clock on the door and snarls in anger. “Not long, okay? Then we’ll get these looked at.”
“I’m fine,” I say, but I shiver, suddenly cold. She notices.
Tugging her jacket off, she wraps it around me and zips it all the way up. I must look like a kid wearing her mom’s clothes, but it’s warm and smells like her, so I snuggle in. When she catches me sniffing the collar, her eyebrows rise, and my cheeks heat as I grin.
“It smells like you,” I admit.
Shaking her head, she kneels before me and runs her hands up and down my legs to keep me warm. Lally blocks the rest of the people on the roof from me so no one can get close.
The clock ticks down slowly as she tries to keep me warm and staunch the bleeding while the others complete their next game. Shivering, I snuggle deeper into her jacket, and she frowns. “Not long now, baby. Just hang on, okay?”
“Call me that again,” I murmur.
“What?” she asks softly.
“Baby, I like it when you call me that.”
