Page 57 of The Photograph

Is not here.

I will my body to roll on the side and turn on the lamp, but when I try to sit up, I can’t draw enough air and fall back on my pillow. My racing heartbeat shakes my whole body. My legs are wet and … viscous.Oh God. No. Please, no.

I touch my sex and lift my fingertips to my face. Violently red blood coats my fingers and my breath hitches. I drag the heavy covers off me and lift my neck. I’m covered in blood from my waist down.I’m going to die.

No. My baby. My baby’s dying.

I fling myself to the side of the bed to grab my cell from my nightstand. Clutching the small device, I wipe off my thumb on the damp sheet and— Aah…

Everything goes black.

Agony… Crying hurts. I punch a number.

“Matthews.”

Finally. Someone.

“G-Gabe… Gabe, plea—”

“Aelin, lose my goddamn number or I’ll make you regret it.” He hangs up.

Please… someone. Please…

The room tilts to its side and the pain stops.

When I wake up, I don’t know how much time has passed. I dial 911.

****

I open the taxi’s back door, shift my knees to the side and scoot toward the door.

All right, I can do this.Deep breath. One foot on the ground then the other. Unfold. Push on my knees. I’m up. I grab the edge of the passenger door and take another breath.I’m all right.One step…

“Why aren’t you helping her?Kretyn!”

I whip my eyes up to the short, plump woman with silver white hair in a bun wearing a short-sleeved black shift dress who marches toward the car while she waves her finger at the driver.

My nosy neighbor from across the street nears me and loops her surprisingly strong arm around my waist. “Let’s get you home, my dear.” She raises her scowl at the driver who walks around the car to slam the door shut.

She straightens on all of her five foot zero and glowers at the lanky man. “What kind of man are you? Can’t you see she needs help,idiota?”

A low grumbling noise rumbles out of the man’s chest as he rolls his eyes before he gets in his car and speeds away. I dip my chin at the same time the woman I’m seeing up close for the first time lifts her gaze to me while her deep pink lipstick stretches into a smile. Her warm voice is lilted. “Can you walk?”

After a nod, I curl my arm around her shoulder—her hair smells of roses—and we make our way up the five stairs to my front door. I lean my back against the cold iron rail.

“The key’s—”

She bends down to retrieve the spare key from the plant pot near the doormat. She’s been watching us. A lot, but right now, I’m just grateful she has. She walks me into my house and leads me to the couch of the living room where I sit while she plumps up some cushions she piles against the arm of the sofa.

“Lie down, my dove. I’ll get you some water.”

And I do just that. The noises I’m so familiar with in my kitchen sound comforting even though the cadence of movements is different from Cara’s. It’s like listening to the cover version of an old favorite song.

When she comes back a few minutes later with a tumbler of fresh water, I sit up to gulp it down while she settles in the armchair next to me.

“Thank you, Mrs.?”

My neighbor grins. “Roman, Gertrude Roman. Call me Gertie.”

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