Page 57 of Shattered Souls

The meds in his blood must’ve loosened his tongue, because he just keeps talking. “What’s your motive? For fun? For pleasure?” Once more, I roll my eyes. He surprisingly lets me undress his wound without intervening. Though he does watch my hands the whole time.

Once the wound hits the air, he sucks in a painful breath. I can’t say I blame him. The skin on his thigh is parted to reveal the red and angry muscle beneath. I lift his leg, him hissing in response, and with the new angle, I can see both shattered ends of his femur. Fresh blood oozes from the split with the manipulation of his leg.

“Hyde!” Even though I’m going to kill him, I still want to hold onto our actual names in front of him. Hayze enters the room, no doubt fawning over the woman shoveling sticky, gummy candy in her mouth. “Bring me a new wound wash.” I don’t bother softening my tone, he knows how I get in these situations.

He gives me a curt nod and walks over to the cabinet. He lifts two different washes in the air, asking which one I want. I nod to the homemade solution I have in the squeeze wash bottle.

“Might want to watch your tongue.” I warn the cop, grabbing the bottle from Hayze and squeezing the contents on the wound.

“Fuck!” He pushes off the table, trying with everything in his being to escape the wound wash.

“Oh, come on, man, it’s just saline.” I push his knee down to the table, earning another stomach churning scream. I turn my back on the man, plucking the gloves from my fingers and tossing them to the ground.”What fucking caliber did you use?”

He shrugs. “You had 30-06 in there. Can’t help it. He was an intruder.” I stare at him, blank faced. I open my mouth to respond, but stop short when I see the silhouette in the doorway.

“What are you gonna do with him?” She timidly asks, warily looking at the cop.

“Nothing you’d want to see.” She nods, almost automatically. She shifts her weight on the balls of her feet.

“Can I ask him something?” She asks me. That same pride feeling swells in my chest at the need for my permission, and the softness of her voice as she looks in my eyes.

“Of course, little scarecrow.” I beckon her closer. She walks into the room, my eyes eating up her frame in her pink pajamas with black cats on them. She walks over to me, eyeing Hayze with a bit of regret shimmering in her eyes, and tucks into my open arms.

“Why are you looking for me?” Her shoulder presses into my side for support. Intentional or subconscious, I don’t care, I’m just happy to offer her strength.

“You stupid girl,” The cop snarls at her, or tries to, but his face crumples quickly, eyes snapping to the wound. “It was just a list of missing persons. You were reported by a group of girls—last seen here.” I watch the information sink into her skin, a want to leave surfacing once more.

“They’re looking for me.” She says to no one specifically.

“Don’t look so sure of yourself.” He interrupts between sharp intakes of air. “One of them was grumbling about how this wasn’t out of character for you. That you probably ditched them.”

“Probably Allie.” Rayvn sheepishly crosses her arms over her chest. “I wasn’t a very good friend to them. Not even really a friend. They tried so hard to include me and invite me to different places with them.”

My eyes dart to Hayze, his eyes wholly trained on her, at her strange glimpse into her life. The short and feral woman looks at us, more like up at us, a flash of embarrassment crossing her face.

“What? Am I not supposed to reveal small details to the awaiting murder victim?” The cop blanches, but we’re solely focused on the color that clips the tips of her ears and creeps up her neck.

Hayze signs something, but my attention is sucked away as I hear the high pitched chime of my radio. A feeling settles deep in my bones, something tittering on fear. Rayvn cocks her head, confused. And the cop, his eyes swim with excitement.

“An EMT.” His pain is forgotten as the chime for an ambulance lingers on the radio. The voice through the radio calls a 10-121, a heart attack, and another voice comes through a few moments later, confirming the call.

“Aw, look, you have similar hobbies.” Rayvn pokes my ribs, but the cop's face curls into an unusual smile.

“That’s it!” He hisses with the movement. “I’ve seen you before, knew I had.”

“Nope,” As if understanding my frustration, Hayze walks off to go and silence the still whining radio. “Never seen you before in my life.”

“But I’ve seen you.” Another hiss of pain as he shifts his weight again. “Synn Lowe,” my brows knit together. “The paramedic that’s got a temper. I should’ve known.”

I turn away from Rayvn, though everything in my body begs me to go back. I pace over to the discarded grocery bags and fish out the drain cleaner. I unscrew the top, tearing off the safety seal with my teeth, walk over to the cop, and dump the contents into the red and raw wound on his thigh.

“Synn!” I register the gasp behind me. But my mind is engulfed in the terrified screeches of pain coming from in front of me. The pain makes him crazy, and his crazy brings me peace. His nails dig at the exposed muscle, desperately trying to scoop out the white cleaner.

The white slowly swirls with red, making a sick sort of painting. It doesn’t take long for his eyes to lose focus and his head to slump to the side. He’s not dead—not yet.

I walk over to the cabinet and grab the things needed to give him an IV. Rayvn looks a little green as she tracks me with her eyes.

“Are you crazy?” This time, her voice isn’t laced in hatred, only grim curiosity.