Page 44 of Havenfall Harbor
The door bangs again, twice this time. “Quinn.” Griffin’s voice is full of warning. “Are you bleeding?”
“Give me a minute, I need to get up.” My pants make a slurping sound when I lift my leg to place my foot on the ground. “There must be a leak, I need to call maintenance.” I hope I’m not sitting in sewage.
I hear the knob on the door crack as the light from the hall pools around me. Still half sprawled on the floor, I see Griffin standing in the doorway, his figure blocking most of the light.
He sucks in a deep breath and reaches forward, lifting me off the ground with ease. My hand goes to his bare torso, and I see a smear of red coating the fine layer of hair over his chest.
“What?” I pull my hand back and notice the liquid coating my fingers isn’t water or sewage. It’s blood.
“Are you hurt?” Griffin still has me pinned to his chest.
I shake my head and swallow the bile threating to come up my throat. I glance behind me and see the red liquid pooled near the entryway, seeping into the carpet. I start to shudder, I need to get these clothes and this blood, or whatever it is, off me.
“Oh God, I sat in it, it’s all over me!” I shove my hands against Griffin, but he doesn’t budge. Unable to fight him, I reach for the button of my pants and start pushing them down my legs with him still holding me.
“Let me go,” I whine.
“Quinn, I’m trying to help you.” Griffin’s words are as soft as I’ve ever heard them. I stop fighting and he slowly lowers me until my toes touch the floor.
I swallow, even though my mouth is already dry. “I think that’s blood.” I can hear the horror in my voice.
“I know, it’s okay,” he tells me, and bends down in front of me. I feel his hand wrap around the back of my knee before he lifts my legs and pulls my shoe off from the heel.
“That’s blood,” I say again, slowly this time. I think I’m in shock. Griffin lifts my other leg and the second shoe comes off. I can still feel the dampness on my feet that seeped into my shoes.
I reach for Griffin’s shoulder, since he’s still kneeling in front of me. “Whose blood is that?” It finally dawns on me that it had to come from somewhere. “Is there a body back there?” I curl my fingers into his flesh.
“No, no, Quinn.” Griffin stands up and lifts his palms like he might cup my face but stops short, the blood on his hands keeping him from touching me.
“Are you sure? That’s a lot of blood.” I stare into his eyes.
“I’m positive. Let me help you get cleaned up.” Griffin pushes my pants the rest of the way down my legs.
“Where did it come from?”
“Step out, there you go. Come with me.” Griffin sticks his head out the door and looks both ways. He reaches for my hand, uncaring that I’m covered in blood, and pulls me out into the hall. My bare feet make sounds on the floor, but at least there’s no carpet here.
Griffin opens the door to his room, and I remember seeing him standing here shirtless. “Where’s Letty?” I look around.
“No clue. Shower?” Griffin continues to drag me down the hall. I note his place is much larger than mine, but most of the lights are off and he’s walking so fast I nearly have to run to keep up, so I don’t get a good look around.
We pass through a dark room before we enter another. Griffin flips on the light switch. Even in my state, a take a moment to appreciate the space. Everything is black, from the floor all the way up to the high ceiling, you’d think it would be drab, but somehow it’s elegant and sophisticated.
There’s a thick glass wall that splits the shower from the rest of the room, but it doesn’t offer any privacy. The glass is completely clear. “Do you need help?” I look over at Griffin. He’s staring at me in my shirt and panties while I’m admiring his bathroom.
“No, I can manage.” I blink several times.
“I’ll grab you something to put on.”
As he turns his back, ready to go, I have the urge to stop him. I really don’t want to be alone right now, but I don’t ask him to stay. Seconds later he disappears, leaving the door open as he goes.
I take my panties off gingerly, hating the cold scrape of fabric down the back of my legs. Pinching them between my fingers, I examine them, the green lace is stained so dark they look almost black. I shudder and toss them into the small trash bin, feeling guilty that I don’t have a bag to put them in. The shirt and bra follow the panties. I’ll never touch any of those clothes again.
The urge to get the blood off of me surges up, and I nearly trip trying to get to the shower stall. I turn the knobs hastily and get blasted with an icy spray. It’s so cold it steals my breath, but I keep turning the dial, shivering until warm water filters into the stream. I drag my hair over my shoulder and let the now hot water cascade over my back and down my legs.
Thoughts of disease and infection spur me to grab the opaque green soap bar seated on a small ledge. I peer around for a washcloth, but don’t see anything, so I make a rich lather with my hands and start systematically scrubbing my body, starting with my butt and the backs of my thighs.
“Do you have everything you need?” Griffin’s voice drifts in from the other room.
