Page 31 of Southie
“Goddamn it, Camilla!”
I ignored Liam’s curses and moved further into her house towards her bedroom. As soon as I stepped foot into the hallway that connected the bedrooms in the back of her home to her living room area, a pungent, metallic smell wafted through the air, hitting my nose and causing it to scrunch up from the strong odor.
Panic seized my chest while walking down the long hallway to the last room at the very end of the hall. Dread-filled my body. The rush of blood and the pounding of my heart sounded in my ears. My hands vibrated with fear.
“Liam?”
My voice came out as barely a whisper when I stopped in front of her bedroom door virtually paralyzed by the sight before me. My hand tightened around the phone out of fear—fear of what was in front of me, and fear of dropping the phone on the carpet because now, I was beyond scared.
“Camilla, what’s wrong?”
My eyes widened, but the words wouldn’t leave my mouth. The fear had imprisoned my voice in my throat as I stared at the horrific scene.
“Camilla, answer me!”
So much blood. Blood everywhere.
Rasping breaths escaped my mouth when my brain finally processed what my eyes had seen. My hands shook uncontrollably, and tears pooled in my eyes.
“Camilla, goddamn it if you don’t answer me!”
Slowly backing away from her door on wobbly legs, I said, “Her bedroom door is closed, but…but there’s blood on the doorknob and streaks of blood running down the door, dripping on the carpet. There’s blood seeping from under the door. Oh God…oh God. So much blood. There’s blood everywhere. Liam!”
“Get out now, Camilla! I’m on the way. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
The sound of a door slamming traveled through the phone. My unshed tears fell. I’d known something was wrong. I’d felt it standing in front of her home. While everyone moved about their day, Mrs. Daugherty’s home just seemed still. It was the only way to explain it. Lifeless. Not vibrant and welcoming as it normally was.
My chest rose and fell rapidly, hands shaking even more. “Liam?”
“Camilla, I’m coming, baby. I’m coming as fast as I can, but I need you to please do as I say. I don’t want anything to happen to you. Touch nothing. Retrace your steps, go outside, and call 911. Can you do that for me?”
His voice was calm but firm. My head bobbed although he couldn’t see me.
I retraced my steps and walked back through Mrs. Daugherty’s home as quickly as I could without touching anything. I let out a huge breath as soon as I made it back outside.
“I’m outside,” I said, struggling to speak and breathe. “Oh God, Liam.”
“Thank God,” he uttered. “Okay. Okay, I’m all most there. Calm down, baby. I’m hanging up, now. Please call 911.”
He ended the call without waiting for me to respond.
With shaky hands, I dialed 911 and gave the dispatcher the address and all the details from inside the house. The dispatcher told me to remain on the line and not to go back inside the home until the police arrived.
Through my gut-wrenching sobs, she tried to console me, but it was impossible. Nothing would erase what I’d seen. Someone had hurt Mrs. Daugherty.
With a shake of the head, I dropped my portfolio and camera bag to the ground and slumped down onto the steps. My shaking hands covered my face, and I bawled my eyes out waiting for someone, anyone, to show up to help her.
Fast-approaching lights and sirens blared in the distance. While it seemed like a lifetime, it had only been a few minutes since I called for help. A sense of relief and trepidation hung over me. The lights and sirens meant help was on the way, but I also feared what they’d find.
Eyes were still watching me. My skin crawled underneath my pullover. My hair still stood on end, but I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind. Now was not the time to focus on anything other than Mrs. Daugherty. Relief sunk in when the lights and sirens stopped on the street in front of Mrs. Daugherty’s home.
After informing the dispatcher the police and ambulance had arrived, the two uniformed police officers approached me, guns drawn, as I ended the 911 call. With my hands raised, I relayed to them who I was, why I was there, and what I saw before they entered the house.
I trudged down the cobblestone pathway closer to the street and waited to hear any news about Mrs. Daugherty’s fate from the police officers.
I fixed my gaze on the front entryway. Images of blood dripping down the white door and pooling on Mrs. Daugherty’s cream carpet flooded my mind. Helplessness flooded my system. I hadn’t prayed since my Mama died, but I wanted Mrs. Daugherty to be okay.
Fear and anger aside, I prayed to the God I’d lost faith in that she was not in the house. And, if she was, I prayed He protected her long enough that she survived whatever happened in there. While I whispered a prayer, letting the words drift into the cool morning breeze, tears continued to slip from my eyes. Deep down in my heart, I knew my prayers would go unanswered. There’d been too much blood for anyone to have survived.
