by Ellis Marie
It was a bomb.
Someone had thrown a bomb through my front window, and now, Cole is hurt and we’re trapped.
What if they were coming back?
“Cole, please.”
A buzzing sound breaks through my panic. I look down at the figure who is unmoving but the pocket in his jeans is lit up through the material.
“Oh my god,” I gasp and grab it, yanking it out of the pocket as I see a name flash across the cracked screen. “Trent?” I manage to choke out, tears spilling down the side of my face as Obi lies beside me, a comforting head on my lap.
“Elle? Is that you? Elle, what happened?” His voice sounds frantic. I can almost feel his worry through the phone. “Where are you?”
“A bomb,” I manage to get out, the words like swallowing gravel. “The house.”
“Hurry up! It’s down that way!” Trent shouts at someone on the other end of the phone. I almost want to laugh at the authoritative tone that he uses but the pain that it causes makes it stop. “Elle, just stay on the phone to me, just listen to my voice. I’ll be there soon, okay? Just hang in there, mo chuisle.”
“What’s . . . that?”
“It means ‘my pulse’, it’s Irish,” he answers me, the stress in his words making me smile. “How bad is Cole?”
I put the phone on speaker and then click the torch on to see Cole. I cry more when I see his closed eyes and bleeding body. The warmth I had felt on my legs hadn’t just been from his skin, but instead, is from the mangled side of his body that doesn’t look like anything anymore, the blood just pools around him.
I lean over and put my hand to his chest, trying to see where I can try to stop the bleeding, but I can’t make out what’s skin, what’s rubble, and what is flesh.
“B-bad,” I sob as I lean my head on to him and circle his head in my arms, laying it on my lap as I beg for him to wake up, but there’s nothing I can do but feel his body rise and fall slowly as he breathes. It’s so shallow that I don’t know if I’m imagining it or not.
At least he’s alive.
Why did this happen? Who would do something so awful . . . and to Cole? He didn’t deserve this; no one did. Is this my fault? Is Cole going to die?
“I’m so sorry, Cole,” I whisper as my head starts to spin. “I’m so . . . sorry . . .”
“Elle? Elle!”
***
There’s no longer ringing in my ears as I wake, but the sound of Obi barking instead and the feeling of being nudged.
I’m unsure how long I’ve been out, but my head still pounds and my legs have gone numb with the weight of Cole’s head.
My eyes blink open, and I see that the light above us is getting brighter and the hole is getting larger, the pieces of the building being moved out the way.
Is it Trent or is it the people that did this?
My question is soon answered as I hear his panicked voice shouting to me. His face suddenly appears in the light, relief covering his features. I give him an attempt at a smile and reach for him, the sound that leaves his mouth almost tears my heart in two as his fingers touch mine.
If that had been the last time that I had seen him, then I would have hated myself, and he probably would have too.
“Trent, help Cole,” I whisper. He lets out what sounds like a laugh of relief as he reaches down. He pulls me up and out of the collapsed floor, the brightness of the outside making me curl my face up. That’s when I realise that there is no longer a roof on my home. Instead, it’s just the bright sky above me.
“Does anywhere hurt? Does anything feel broken? I can smell blood that isn’t Cole’s?”
His words are frantic. I smile lightly, shaking my head and watching him crouch. He takes in every inch of my skin, his shiny hair looking as though his fingers must have raked through it a hundred times.
“No,” I manage to whisper, a warmth flooding over me as I realise how much he truly cares about me and how I’m stupid to have ever thought that he could hurt me.
“Elle, tell me if there’s even a slight thing—”
I shake my head and grab his face between my hands, stopping his blabbering as his eyes look up at me, the crease between his brows deepening.
My throat is too sore to say anything more. Even if I try, I don’t think I would have the words. Looking down at him, I can’t help the tears that come into my eyes. He rises to his feet, pulling me into him and enclosing me in his arms. I close my eyes as his lips touch mine, the comfort they bring flooding through me like the tears that slip down my cheeks. His lips are warm against my cold ones, and I can taste the salt of my tears on them, but I ignore how gross that might be right now.
It’s a brief kiss as I quickly pull away and begin to cough, the pain in my throat returning as I do. Trent jumps back from me, shouting at someone to pass him water. In a blink, there’s a bottle in front of me. I take it greedily, relishing the feeling that the cool liquid provides as it soothes the pain.
“If it’s not your blood, then it might have been the person who threw the bomb in here. Maybe they didn’t clear the space in time. It does smell like it’s a bit of a distance away.”
His hand gently rubs my back. I take a breath, everything rushing back to me as I turn and look at the other body getting pulled from the wreckage.
“Cole,” I gasp and run forward, watching as they start attending to his wounds, their voices warping into a mass noise as I take in the damage to him.
It’s as if someone has drawn a curved line through his body starting from the top of this right shoulder down to the toes on his left foot. One side is perfectly intact apart from some dirt and dust, but the other side is damaged to what looks like beyond repair. I can’t even start to put together all the pieces of him that appear missing.
“Elle!”
I turn around and see Scarlette running towards me with panic on her features as she reaches me and pulls me into a hug, whispers of relief pouring out of her.
“Thank god, you’re okay,” she cries, stepping back to look at me. “You’re okay, aren’t you?”
I nod but glance down at Cole.
“I’m fine, but Scar—”
“Deli, Cole needs you,” Trent interrupts me as he speaks to someone walking up behind Scarlette. A woman I don’t recognise nods to him, moving past us and to the crowd. “Scarlette, you too.”
As soon as the words hit her ears, Scarlette disappears from my sight and runs to the injured boy, shouts echoing.
“That’s Scarlette’s mum,” Trent explains quietly. “She’s one of our best doctors. Scar’s training up.”
I nod, watching as they work and have to admire how they focus; I haven’t been able to stop the tears, let alone focus on anything else since I’ve been rescued. I can see Scarlette’s features in the older woman’s face, but it’s hard to believe that she’s old enough to be her mother.
“What happened?” Trent asks me. I shrug, still not fully understanding how I’m standing without a mark on me while Cole is so damaged.
“He put himself between me and the bomb,” I croak with a shake, remembering the panicked look in his eyes but also how quickly he protected me. “Why did he do that, Trent? Why is he like that and I’m fine?” Tears flow faster as my breath quickens. He hushes me, pulling me back into his body.
“It’s okay, he’s going to be okay. Right, Deli?” We both look at Scarlette’s mother, whose face is furrowed with confusion as she pours different bottles onto his skin.
“He’s alive, that’s what matters. Whatever stopped him from getting this amount of damage over his whole body was the saviour.”
Scarlette scoffs and starts to wrap bandages around his arm, shaking her head.
“More like he has a guardian angel watching over him; it’s a miracle.”
I stare at the solid line across his body that begins to disappear as more bandages cover him. Something nags at the back of my head.
A miracle?
“Well, whatever it was, I
’m grateful,” Trent adds, stopping my train of thought. “Whatever it was kept you alive and protected you.”
Protected.
I walk back over to the hole in which we’ve been pulled out of and look at the perfect circle it created, as if there’s a barrier around me the whole time.
How, in the middle of the wreckage, could there be a perfect spot in which nothing is harmed? Even Obi is totally uninjured.
Cam’s words crash into my mind, and it’s as if someone lifts the blanket from my eyes.
Mrs. Grenway has every protection spell there is.
From outside, I hear Obi begin to bark.
“It was Mrs. Grenway,” I gasp. “It was magic.”
I turn and push Trent out the way, stumbling across rubble as I make my way through the ruins of my house. My heart beats a mile per minute as I ignore the shouts from behind me.
She saved my life.
Grinning, I clear the rocks and bricks and hit the grass, a laugh coming from my chest as I sprint to the house of the one woman who has always looked out for me. Who, even when I didn’t understand, has my best interests at heart and does everything she could to protect me.
Whose heart is so big that she never even told me everything that she did for me, but here she is again, saving my life.
“Mrs. Grenway!” I shout as I get to her steps, ready to grab her and tell her how much I love her, but I stop.
Obi is standing in the doorway, barking.
“Obi?” When I see the open doorway, the smile on my face falls. She never leaves it open.
“Mrs. Grenway?”
Trent arrives beside me and grabs my arm before I can go into the house. I look at him in panic. The feeling only worsens when I see the dark expression on his face.
“Elle. The blood. I could smell . . . it might not be safe.”
My head starts to shake before he even finishes his sentence, not wanting to hear what he’s about to say.
It can’t be. My head pounds.
“No,” I whisper, ripping myself from him as I rush into the house, Obi running in front of me. I follow him through the hall, stepping over a smashed lamp, which makes my blood turn cold.
It’s one of the lamps that Ernie had gotten for her on one of their travels, some stupidly expensive thing that she thought was hideous, but he got to make her smile. It’s one of her prized possessions. Why would it be smashed to pieces?
The hall that I had walked through a hundred times seems darker, and it feels like an eternity until I am at the end of it.
He stops outside her bedroom door and my lungs tighten, my hand hovering over the doorknob, afraid to turn it.
She’s fine, it’s nothing.
I throw it open and freeze, waiting for someone to jump out at me. No one does, but I feel the bile rise in my throat as I take in the broken furniture and the body lying by the window.
“Mrs. Grenway!” I scream and run to her, turning her small, frail body over in my arms as I check her pale face for signs that she’s okay.
“Mrs. Grenway?”
It’s not until I see the blood pooling out below her and the hole in her chest that I realise that she’s not okay at all.
“No, no, no, no,” I deny, shaking as I hold her to me. Choked sobs wrack my body as I lift my hands to her face and beg her to be alright. All that changes is the colour of her skin going from ash white to blood red with prints of my fingertips.
“Please open your eyes,” I cry, my vision going blurry as I put my face to hers. “You can’t leave me.”
I wait for her laugh to start around me, to hear her sarcastic tone tell me off for being overdramatic, to hear anything.
“Elle?” I hear Trent at the doorway and turn to him in anguish, his shocked expression morphing into sadness as he slowly walks to me.
I motion to Mrs. Grenway, not knowing what to do.
“Someone shot her. You have to help her, you have to . . .” He kneels down beside me and places his fingers on the side of her neck, the silence around us deafening.
“I’m so sorry, Elle,” he finally whispers after what feels like an eternity. The floodgates open again, my mind screaming as well as my mouth as he wraps an arm around me and lets me lean against him. “I’m so sorry.”
I don’t know how long I sit there with my arms around her. Maybe it’s minutes, maybe it’s hours. It could have been weeks for all I care, it doesn’t matter. She’s gone.
Eventually, when it seems like I have no tears left in me and my body is rigid from staying in the same position for so long, Trent delicately peels my hands off her body and picks me up, whispering words to me.
But nothing helps.
I’m sure other people speak to me at some point. I remember maybe briefly seeing Scarlette’s red hair and hearing Cole’s name being said along with words of relief.
But how am I meant to enjoy the news when Mrs. Grenway lay lifeless in the house just metres away from us?
I watch as the mass of people move between her house and the rubble that was my own. Trent shouts orders at them as they move, but I don’t care about what he’s saying until he begins to make his way to the car that I’m sitting in.
He opens the door and takes a breath, the hesitation worrying me.
“Would you shout Obi? He won’t let us get near the body, and I think he’s getting a bit distressed.”
My heart breaks all over again as I hear his anguished barks from inside the house, the pain in them so noticeable that it almost feels like my own.
Maybe it is my own.
“O-Obi,” I call shakily, sobs threatening to come back through. “Obi, come, boy.”
The sound stops. It’s only a second before I see his head come out of the doorway to the house. I whistle and his ears perk as he runs to me.
When he gets to the car, he jumps in and lies down on my lap straight away, the weight of him knocking the breath out of me—like always. A sound leaves my lips as he turns to face me, his tongue hitting my cheek and not stopping.
I hold on to his head and try to give him a smile, but my lips begin to blubber. I stroke his fur, the words getting trapped in my throat as I look at his big brown questioning eyes. I realise that I can’t explain to him what’s happened.
“She’s gone, boy,” I try, the words catching as I choke on them. He whines, lying down beside me. It’s only when he moves from suffocating me that I see the paw prints that he has left on my thighs, and I feel myself begin to shake again.
Perfectly pressed in blood.
“She’s gone,” I whisper, curling myself into his comforting body as he does the same to me, his fur acting like a tissue that catches my tears before they can be seen.
“She’s gone, and she’s not coming back.”
I must have passed out on the back seat of the car because when Trent finally wakes me, we’re outside the pack house.
Obi growls as Trent opens the door and reaches for me.
I quickly hush him with soft words and step out by myself, watching him follow suit. Trent walks a step ahead of me, offering a hand when I stumble but I don’t take it. Instead, I wrap my hand in Obi’s fur and walk with him, not wanting to even look at anyone apart from the dog that’s beside me.
It’s silent as we enter the large house. I don’t feel any of the excitement or awe that I’ve felt the times before. My body is numb, and I don’t even register who exactly is looking at me as I walk through.
Obi lets out a low growl as someone steps too close to me and the familiar sound gives me some false comfort that maybe everything is just the same; maybe this is all a dream.
Trent leads me to a room and then into a bathroom, where he points at the large shower that looks as though it could fit five people in it.
“I’ll leave a change of clothes at the door for you, if you like,” he offers. I nod silently, not daring to look at him in fear that his soft gaze will make me crumble.
“I’ll leave you be.”
If
I could think of anything other than the sadness in my bones, then I would probably tell him that I’m not trying to push him away . . . that I’m not going out of my way to hurt him.
But I don’t. I can’t.
I wait until I hear the door shut before I go into the shower and kick off my shoes, not removing any other clothing as I walk to the furthest wall and turn it on.
As soon as the warm water begins to hit me, my legs give out and I slide to the floor, my body convulsing as I throw up whatever is in my stomach. It’s as though my body is reacting to the heartbreak.
After a few minutes, it stops and I watch the water wash it away, my blood slowly beginning to follow it as it seeps from my clothes.
I turn and whistle for Obi who is standing just out of reach. He moves closer, letting me begin to rinse the blood from his fur.
It’s hard to see due to his dark coat, but I know it’s there, like the pain in my chest and the despair that is beginning to fill my body.
The motion of washing him soothes me slightly, the familiarity of it easing the tornado of destructive thoughts that are spinning around my head. It reminds me of when I was younger and used to do it during the summertime.
Obi is always the dog that is first in any dirty puddles, and as a puppy, he loved to roll in every mud heap that he could find, whether you screamed at him or not. Mrs. Grenway used to threaten to give him up every time he did it, and I used to laugh and roll my eyes as I rinsed him clean.
Of course, she would never have given him up; she loved him. She loved me.
I love her. I loved her.
I don’t know if I’m still crying, or if they’ve dried up and it’s just the water streaming down my face, but my eyes burn and my heart hurts.
“She loved us,” I whisper to the dog as I cling to him. “She loved us, and she was the only family I had. Now, she’s gone.”
We sit there until the water stops running red and turns clear, all signs of the trauma removed from us so that we’re squeaky clean.
I can’t remove the feeling in my chest and the thought that plagues me until my fingers turn to prunes and the water begins to run cold.
