Page 10 of Saving Barrette

And now… I know exactly what people meant when they said it. Everything ceased to exist and turned to a crumbled version of reality. One where I knew my next step might mean I find her not breathing. Not living. Not being.

Everything moves in slow motion when my knees hit the ground. I scramble through the leaves and broken branches around her. Gently, I turn her over. “Barrette? Are you okay?” A gasp leaves my mouth when I see her face. Is she okay? No, not even close. There’s a lot of blood coming from her face, cheek, her hair matted to the side of her face. Carefully, I touch her hand, scanning the rest of her.

I shake my head, swallowing down the anger pulsating inside me. That’s when I notice she’s naked from the waist down.I start shaking, hard, and I think I feel my chest moving, beating, and it stings. It fucking boils, bursts into flames. Only… it’s not beating fast enough. It can’t keep up with my breathing.It’s so bad it knocks the air from my lungs, and I gasp, a muffled cry from my lips. There’s so much blood, everywhere. It’s all I see. Red. In rage, anger, blood… it’s everything I can do to not scream and find every male at the party and integrate the fuck out of them until they tell me who did this.

I glance at my phone thinking I need to call the police, but something inside me tells me to take her myself to save time. It’d take them as much time to get out here as it would to take her myself. Every movement I make is too slow, as if I can’t make up my mind what I should be doing. I touch her hand. “Barrette, I’m going to pick you up and get you out of here,” I tell her, unsure if she can hear me.

“Asa,” she breathes as I cradle her head. “You stayed?” She looks at me then, her eyes swollen and red, bruises forming already.

Relief washes over me that she can talk, but I hesitate. I stayed? Did she think it was me who did this to her? No… she means came back for her? Right? I don’t say anything because when I lift her head, she curls into herself and screams in pain. And turns her head to the side and vomits.

“I’m so tired,” she whispers, closing her eyes. Her breathing’s low and drawn out, the word slurred through a sigh.

Did someone drug her?

Rage rolls through me again. Who could have done this? I saw Xander… he was asleep. Did he have any part of this? Who else did? One person couldn’t have done this, right?

The smell of vomit hits me, and beer. She’s soaked in it or maybe this isn’t the first time she’s thrown up. She mumbles something, her eyes opening and closing. Her hand squeezes mine, just once, and I look down and look at her hand. It’s hard to see with the harsh darkness, but a twinge of relief hits me. If she can squeeze my hand, she’s going to be okay, right?

Harsh breathing escapes me in gasps. I can barely keep from falling beside her. I have to get her out of here. Ripping my shirt off, I manage to wrap it around her waist and then as carefully as I can, I pick her up. Her breathing is shallow, strained, and my hands keep slipping on the blood.

I don’t know how I manage, but I carry her to the edge of the water, notice a group of people not far from me, and then scream for help. They rush over. “Holy shit, is that Barrette?” one asks.

I eye them suspiciously and nod. “I uh… she’s hurt. Help me get her to my car.” I motion them forward and stop one of them, my hand on his chest. “Give me your shirt.”

He gives me a strange look, arching his eyebrows. “My shirt?”

Heavy exaggerated breaths and uncontrolled actions overtaking me. “Yes. She’s naked. I don’t want everyone seeing her this way.” I hold her tight in my arms, her head pressed against my chest.

Without questioning, he does, and it takes three of us to get her to my car. I lay her down in the front seat and turn to the two guys who helped me. “Do you know who did this? Who was with her last?”

They both look at me, and then each other. “Last time we saw her she was on Xander’s lap.” The taller one says, burying his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I hadn’t seen her in a couple hours.”

Frustrated, I run my hands over my face. Wetness hits me. It’s then I realize it’s Barrette’s blood on me. I turn to look at her when she moans. She bends to the side and vomits again. Her labored breathing brings me back.

My heart pounds, blood raging with nowhere to go. Breathing in deeply, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Fuck.”

“She was with Roman for a little bit,” the other says, shrugging one shoulder and wiping blood from his hand on his wet jeans. “He left though, so I don’t know either. He’s with some chick in his room.”

A good part of me wants to rush inside his house and ask him what happened, but I know if I don’t get Barrette help soon, it could be too late.

Rushing around the front of the car, I slide into the driver seat. Gravel and dirt spray up from my tires as I peel out of the driveway and head to the hospital. A drive that should take thirty minutes takes me fifteen. I park in front of the building and rush around the front of the car to the passenger seat. She’s not awake, either passed out or sleeping. I scream for people to help me. No one does at first. It’s nothing like in the movies. A few people stare as I carry her inside, and then they jump to life and bring a wheelchair toward me. “She’s in bad shape…” is all I manage to say.

They take her from me immediately, her body limp and unresponsive, doctors surrounding her as they wheel her through the emergency room doors. They say nothing to me at first. Until a woman in blue scrubs approaches me. “What happened?”

“She was…raped. I think.” I run a shaking hand through my hair, then down the front of my face, trying to clear my thoughts. “I don’t know for sure. We were at a party together. I left and then I came back and couldn’t find her. I went searching and found her in the woods.”

She scans my face, the blood, my face… all of it like she’s doing inventory. Sizing me up like I did this. She thinks I’m lying to her.

“I didn’t do this,” I bark, anger lighting my face.

Her lips press together. “Sit over there. I’ll come get you soon.” She points at my face. “Do not leave the hospital. The police will be notified.”

The police? Fuck. If they call my dad… or worse, the NCAA finds out, then what? Is my football career over because I did the right thing? I shove my hands in the pockets of my jeans and stare at the emergency room doors, my heart pounding in my ears, searching for an answer. Someone raped her. It’s obvious. The word, the meaning, it tears at me. It fucks me up in more ways than I can comprehend. Pain and adrenaline punch my stomach, it sits, finds a resting point, making me nauseous with each thought.

In my head, I picture everyone at the party. Xander. Roman. There’s no way Roman would do this to her. But, fuck, I don’t know a goddamn thing about Roman and his friends anymore. I let my face fall into my hands and slide my fingers back into my hair. I pull until it hurts.

I hunch over, my hands on my knees for support. I breathe in as fully as possible.

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