Chapter 101: Sadie: Devil’s Claim

SADIE

For a moment, I stay where I’ve fallen, breathing too hard to do anything else. Then I push myself up on one hand and wipe my forehead, turning toward him.

His eyes are closed, his head tipped to the side.

"Hey." I reach for his shoulder and give it a gentle shake, waiting for him to open his eyes.

When he doesn’t, I look up and down the road. There are no flashing lights, no sign of anyone coming, and when I turn back, I notice the blood spreading beneath him.

I pull the phone from my pocket, nearly dropping it as I bring it closer.

"We’re out of the woods," I tell the dispatcher. "He’s not responding. Please, where are they?"

"What’s your name?" she asks.

"Sadie."

"Okay, Sadie. The crew is on its way. Is he breathing normally? Watch his chest and tell me what you see."

I lean over him, watching his chest. It doesn’t rise. I wait, barely breathing myself, but nothing changes.

"He’s not breathing." I reach for his wrist, pressing my fingers against it. I don’t know if I’m touching the right place, but I can’t feel anything. "I can’t find his pulse. Please, what do I do?"

"Lay him flat on his back. We’re going to start chest compressions. I’ll guide you."

I ease him onto his back and kneel beside him, trying to listen while everything in my head keeps insisting I’m about to watch someone die.

"Place the heel of one hand in the center of his chest, with your other hand on top. Keep your arms straight and your shoulders over your hands."

I position my hands, looking at his face before pressing down.

"I’ve never done this," I say. "I don’t know if I’m doing it right."

"Push hard and fast, and let his chest rise fully between compressions. Keep going. I’m here with you."

Her voice stays steady, giving me instructions and a rhythm to follow. I try to match it, my arms trembling with the effort.

"Wake up," I plead. "Please wake up."

I give him breaths when she guides me through them, then return my hands to his chest. Nothing changes. Tears slip down my face, and I blink hard, trying to keep count without losing sight of where my hands are.

"You were talking a few minutes ago." My voice shakes with the effort. "Just do that again. You don’t even have to be nice."

The dispatcher keeps me counting, bringing me back whenever I lose my place. My shoulders ache, and I lean farther over him, trying to keep pushing the way she told me. I’m scared to slow down. I’m scared that if I stop, even for a second, he won’t get another chance.

Somewhere beyond her voice, I hear a siren.

I lift my head, hardly daring to believe it, until flashing lights appear along the road. Relief comes so suddenly that I let out a broken laugh.

"Here!" I shout, raising an arm before putting my hand back over the other. "We’re here!"

The ambulance stops a few feet away. A paramedic jumps out carrying a medical bag and a monitor, while another pulls a wheeled stretcher from the back.

"Keep going," the first one tells me as he drops to his knees beside us. He sets his equipment down and reaches toward the stranger’s neck. "How long has he been unresponsive?"

"I don’t know. He was talking in the woods, but then he got heavier, and when we got here—"

"Okay." He moves into position beside his chest. "I’m taking over compressions. You can let go now."

I pull my hands away and shuffle back, my arms shaking so badly that I have to brace them against my legs. The second paramedic brings the stretcher alongside us before kneeling with a clear mask and a breathing bag.

"Is any of this blood yours?" she asks, glancing over at me.

My eyes drop to my clothes. "No. I’m okay. I found him in the woods."

"Were you attacked too?"

"No. Just him." The words come out between breaths as I shake my head.

"Which way did you come out?"

"Through there." I point toward the path between the trees.

"Do you know his name?" Her attention shifts back to him while she waits for my answer.

"He wouldn’t tell me. He just said he wasn’t from here."

"And you made the emergency call?"

"Yes. The dispatcher told me what to do."

"You did well getting help," she says, turning back to him.

Once they’re ready to move him, they position a scoop stretcher beneath his body and lift him onto the ambulance cot. I get to my feet as they secure him, stepping back to give them room.

"Are you coming with us?" the woman asks.

For a second, I want to. I want to stay until somebody tells me he’ll live. But Madam Kincaid is still waiting, and I’ve already been gone too long.

"I can’t. There’s something urgent I have to get back for." I reach into my pocket and pull out his phone. "This is his. I used it to call."

She takes it from me before wheeling him toward the ambulance.

***********************

BACK TO PRESENT

"No way!" Lola’s hand lands on my back as she jolts upright. "That was Trey?"

I nod and hug the pillow closer. It’s hard to believe it myself. I keep trying to match the boy against that tree to the guy I’ve been living with. He’s known who I was all along, while I’ve been trying to work out what we even are.

"They asked me a few things, but I couldn’t go to the hospital with him. I had to get back to Madam Kincaid." A sigh leaves me as I look at Lola. "I really didn’t recognize him."

"Not even when you saw him again?"

"I barely let myself think about that night. I didn’t even know his name, and finding out what happened to him wasn’t exactly easy while I was trying to survive the Kincaids." I pull the pillow closer. "Now I find out he remembered me all this time, and he..."

"Sadie, this is a melodrama." Lola shifts toward me. "He was that close to dying and still remembered you? Do you think that’s why he’s into you?"

"I don’t know." My head moves in another small shake. "I keep thinking I might’ve noticed something if I’d recognized him. At least I would’ve had questions, instead of taking everything he did as..."

My eyes drop to the pillow. I can’t even finish without feeling like I’m blaming myself for believing him.

"But why should I have had to figure it out? He could’ve told me. He had plenty of chances." I swallow. "He let me struggle, then helped me out of it and accepted the fucking thank-you. How could he sit there knowing all that?"

Lola exhales and lies beside me again, pulling me against her.

"I know it doesn’t make it better," she says, rubbing my arm. "But at least it wasn’t about Ezra. He wasn’t doing it just to get at his brother."

"I don’t care who it was about," I snap. "I’m the one it happened to. These past three weeks have been horrible, and every time he helped, I trusted him more. He knew that. He watched me get attached and never thought I deserved to know the truth."

Her hand slows on my arm.

"And what else hasn’t he told you?" she asks. "You only know what he’s admitted to."

I hate that she’s right. Even now, I’m trying to believe he’s finally told me everything, as if I haven’t spent enough time giving him credit he doesn’t deserve.

"Ezra looked scared when he warned me about him. I thought he was just being a jerk." I bite my lip, trying to keep my voice steady. "I almost died, Lola. I ate sesame just so I could tell him what his stepmother did. I was that scared of keeping something from him, and he’s been looking me in the face with all this to hide." I shake my head. "I’m done talking about him. I don’t want him anywhere near me."

"Okay," Lola says, drawing me closer. "But we still have to get your stuff from his apartment. You won’t have to go alone. I’ll be there."

My chest burns at the thought of standing outside his door. I can picture him opening it, and I hate remembering how happy that used to make me. He’d been lying to me the whole time, and I’d practically lit up whenever he came home.

"Can you get it for me?" I ask. "I don’t want to go back there."

"Of course." She squeezes my arm. "I’ll handle that asshole. You don’t have to see him."

Asshole feels generous for Trey. Evil sociopath sounds closer to what I’m dealing with, and he even scent-marked me. I’ve been walking around with his claim on me, prancing around with the devil’s scent.

The thought makes me want to get in the shower and scrub until there’s nothing left of him, even if I take half my skin off with it.