Page 146 of The Night Shift
“Hi, sorry to bother you, but I forgot my keys upstairs.”
A beat of silence. Then a loud buzz. The lock clicks open.
Wow. People are way too trusting. What if I was a crazy serial killer?
I step inside, immediately cherishing the warmth after the cold outside. The air smells faintly of dust and something fried. The wooden steps creak slightly under my weight as I climb. By the time I reach the fifth floor, I’m only slightly out of breath. I locate Theo’s apartment and press the doorbell.
Nothing.
I press it again. And again. And again. Then I knock, hard. “Theo?”
Silence.
I glance around, checking the usual hiding spots for a spare key—under the mat, in the potted plant beside the door. Nothing.
Fucking hell.
I try the handle and — what the fuck?
It’s open?
I pause for a second, my hand still on the handle as I consider stepping back. Frustration bubbles inside me.Oh, screw it. Given that Theo has invadedmyprivacy in worse ways, a simple break-in to check ifheis okay is totally justified. I push the door open and step inside. Immediately, something feelswrong.
“Theo?”
No response.
The apartment is dark. It’s too quiet. I can hear my own heartbeat and the way my breath has suddenly turned shallow. I take a step forward, then another, venturing further inside. My fingers brush against the wall, finding the switch. The light flickers on, dim and yellow.
The living room comes into view.
My stomach drops.
“Theo!”
I rush forward, dropping to my knees beside him. He’s sprawled on the rug, his face covered in blood, eyes shut.
He has a coat around him, but it’s covered in dried blood. His lip is split open, raw and swollen. The skin around his left eye is dark and puffy, bruising spreading out in sick shades of blue and purple. A deep gash cuts across his forehead, blood sluggishly pooling at his temple and trickling down the side of his face.
The sight chills me to my core. My chest starts to ache.
My hands hover over his chest, unsure where to touch, where to start. My stomach twists.There’s so much blood it makes me SICK.It’s in his hair, under his nails — it’severywhere.
“Who…who the fuck did this to you?”
His right hand twitches slightly against the floor. He mumbles something I don’t quite catch.
“W-what?” My voice comes out soft.
His left hand moves weakly, pressing against his abdomen. His fingers are slick with blood, trembling as they clutchsomething. A needle, half-threaded with black suture. He lifts it, trying to lift his coat and groans in pain.
“Stop it, don’t do that. Let me…I… I need to figure out where the blood is coming from —”
And then I see it.
White fur. Drenched in red. Hidden underneath his coat. I yank the coat open, my hands moving before I can even breathe.
No.
