More Than Friends

by Tabetha Thompson

  “Chloe, where do you see yourself in the future?” His question catches me off guard.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, confused.

  “Do you want kids? To settle down?” he asks.

  “Well, I never really gave it much thought. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason. Just something that I have been thinking about the past week,” he says vaguely.

  I roll my eyes at him and sit up on the bed. It’s so quiet in here. No beeping monitors. No one is coming in every two minutes to check on me. I feel like everything is finally getting back on track.

  “Babe?” I look up to see Skye studying me.

  “Yes?” I ask.

  “I’m going to find Sally and call the detective. Will you be okay for a few minutes?” He looks torn.

  “Yeah, go ahead.” Skye leans in and kisses me until I’m lying on my back on the hospital bed. He breaks the kiss with a smug smile on his face. At this point, I’m too breathless to care.

  “Oh! Can you hand me my phone?” I pant. He grabs it and hands it to me. A quick air kiss and Skye is out the door.

  I’m sitting in the quiet room, reliving our stolen moments in the shower when my phone goes off. It’s a text from a number I don’t recognize. I open the message and look at the attached picture. It takes me a moment to realize what I’m seeing. Sara’s tiny VW wrapped around a large tree, thick grey smoke coming from under the hood. I see a dark brown spot resting where the driver’s side window should be, and I gasp.

  Rose petals are everywhere - her car, the ground surrounding the wreckage. The same type of vase and bouquet that was delivered to my room earlier today is placed neatly on the roof of the car.

  I can hear someone screaming, and crying hysterically, and my body starts to tremble. Suddenly, the phone feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, and I drop the offending device as if it were a bomb about to go off. Whoever is screaming needs to shut the hell up, I can’t think straight. Skye bursts into the room, and it’s not until his arms are wrapping around me, that I realize I’m the person screaming.

  A steady flow of tears trail down my cheeks. “Baby, what happened? Are you hurt?”

  Not able to form a coherent sentence, I just shake my head from side to side, pointing to the bomb on my bed. Skye picks up my phone as two people rush into my room.

  Sally looks around the room frantically, searching for whatever has upset me. The man behind her looks worried and confused; he enters the room and checks the bathroom.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks no one in particular. Skye still hasn’t said a word. He’s just staring at my phone. Finally, his gaze meets mine.

  Tears flood up in his eyes. “Is this–” Before he can finish his question, I’m hysterically nodding my head up and down, confirming his suspicion.

  With what I’m sure is a false state of calm, Skye hands the phone the man behind Sally and says, “Detective, that is Sara Kyle’s vehicle in the picture.” He looks to me with a sadness in his eye that matches mine. “Baby, look at me. Do you know whose number that is?” Again, I can only shake my head to answer his question. He takes me in his arms and attempts to sooth me. I didn’t notice Sally or the detective leave until the door opens again, and Sally re-enters with a syringe.

  “Chloe, honey,” she says, approaching me cautiously. “I’m going to give you something to help calm you, okay?” She looks to me for reassurance.

  I don’t register what she’s doing. My only thoughts are of Sara. Was that really her car? What happened? Why would someone send me that picture? Was it supposed to be some sort of message? Nothing makes sense.

  Everything goes dark.

  “What the FUCK did you do?” Tears burn my eyes as I scream at Todd. We’re standing on the side of the road staring down at Sara’s VW beetle. The front of the small car is crumpled into a giant ball of metal. The smell of smoke is thick in the air as it pours from the carnage. How did things get to this point?

  I’m about to hop over the railing that Sara’s car flipped over only minutes ago when Todd grabs my arm. Snatching it away, I angrily turn on him. “I need to get down there and help her! Don’t you fucking touch me!” His face remains stoic as he pulls out a gun. In a slow, calm motion Todd raises the barrel until it’s directly pointing at my face. Oh fuck!

  “Let’s go.” He gestures in Sara’s direction with the barrel of the gun and continues, “Grab the bag in the back of the truck first, the big black one. We’re going down there, but only to get your phone. How fucking stupid can you be? Why the fuck didn’t you delete everything?” He pushes me with his free hand, urging me to start walking. The cold steel of his Smith and Wesson nine-millimeter pistol is pressed into my back. I grab the bag out of the back of the truck and the smell of roses hits my nose. I instantly feel sick.

  I’ve known this whole time about the roses Todd has been leaving at Chloe’s place to taunt her. Although, I know I should’ve spoken up sooner, I’ve kept that information to myself. The only reason I have for keeping quiet, is fear.

  That terror is quickly turning into concern for my friend’s welfare. I’m disgusted with myself for placing my fear and selfish needs before the people I care about.

  With the pistol still pressed between my shoulders, the bag that smells of roses in hand, we make our way down the slippery embankment. The smell of dirt and gasoline fills my nose.

  I can hear Sara moaning when we get to the car. “Open the door, get the damn phone, and let’s go!” Todd says.

  “Man, let’s call 9-1-1. She doesn’t look good. We need to get her some help!” I beg, throwing the bag to the ground.

  “Fuck that bitch! She should’ve kept her nose out of my shit! This is what happens when you put yourself somewhere you don’t belong. Get the damn phone.” With shaking hands, I attempt to open the door but it won’t budge. The front of the car is pushed so far back it overlaps the doors, preventing them from opening.

  “Go through the damn window and hurry the hell up,” he shouts. I don’t say a word while I follow his command. All the windows are busted out, leaving large, jagged pieces of glass scattered on the ground and inside the car.

  Leaning into the window carefully, I try to keep from pressing too hard against the large piece of glass sticking up in the opening. I find the phone on the floorboard near Sara’s purse, which has spilled its contents all over the place. My phone is lying next to hers, so I discreetly grab hers and quickly make sure her GPS is activated, just in case.

  Before I can climb back out of the window, I feel a heavy hand press into my back, pushing my torso down. Pain explodes in my midsection; it’s so excruciating, causing me to gag from the bile rising in my throat. I quickly pull myself out of the window, taking a large piece of glass with me in the process.

  Todd pushes my shoulder, urging me forward. “Open the bag and spread that shit around. Then let’s get the hell out of here before someone notices us and calls the cops.”

  When I don’t move, he cocks the gun and presses it to my temple. “I said fucking MOVE!” I can feel my pulse rapidly beating against the cold metal of the gun. Blood is pouring out of my stomach, saturating my shirt, and the pain is excruciating. Everything around me starts spinning slowly and my step falters.

  I manage to spread the rose petals all over the car and around it on the forest floor. When I pull out a black vase with twelve long-stemmed, crumpled roses shoved in it, the bile returns. I place the vase on the top of the car with shaky hands.

  I can’t decide what makes me the sickest, my own behavior that’s put me in this situation, Sara getting involved and hurt, betraying Chloe, or standing back and watching Todd taunt her with all these fucking roses. Todd’s go-to method of asking Chloe for forgiveness was always roses, so I know he wants her to know this was he’s doing.

  “Grab the bag and let’s get the fuck out of here,” Todd barks. I lean down to pick the bag up off the ground and the movement makes me dizzy. My legs buckle and I reach out and grab
a small tree next to me for support. The bark from the tree rips the skin on my forearms. A firm fist grips my shirt and yanks me back to my feet.

  With his hand clenching the collar of my shirt, I stumble up the hill. Every ounce of my energy is used up by the time we get back to the truck. When I’m seated in the passenger seat, I remove my shirt. Shards of glass fall to my lap and the floorboard. Looking down, I notice the piece of glass sticking out of my skin right below my navel. Gritting my teeth, I grab the edge of it and slowly pull it out; it’s the size of my palm. Blood starts gushing from the wound as soon as the glass leaves my flesh.

  I shake off any remains of the glass from my shirt and, with weak arms, ball it up, and place it over the large gash in a feeble attempt to try to stop the bleeding. I feel woozy, weak, and everything starts getting blurry, grey spots dance in my vision. I lean my head back against the headrest, and my mind begins to process what I’ve gotten myself into, and how the hell I’m going to get out.

  Chloe has been asleep since Sally sedated her. I, on the other hand, have been pacing the hallway outside her room this whole time, waiting for Detective Sanders to get off his phone. I have my phone in hand, holding it like a lifeline.

  Detective Sanders is yelling at some poor sap to do this and that. When he finishes his conversation with whoever he was talking to, he approaches me. “Skye, I’m going to keep Chloe’s phone for evidence. I need to head to the station. The moment I know something I’ll call you. If Chloe wakes up before I get back, please notify me,” he requests.

  “Yes, sir. Thank you.” We shake hands.

  As the Detective turns to walk away, my phone begins ringing. Looking at the screen, I see Brady’s name. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Skye. Um...It’s Sara, man. Sara had a wreck.” Since Chloe received her anonymous text, this isn’t news to me. I just wish it was some kind of cruel joke instead of what it is.

  “Detective!” I shout down the hall. The detective stops and looks at me over his shoulder in question. I lift my finger in the universal gesture to hold on. He turns and starts walking back in my direction.

  “Huh?” Brady says.

  “Nothing, man. What happened?” I quickly put him on speakerphone so the detective can listen in on the conversation.

  “Sara wrecked her car. Drove it over the railing on Thompson Road. I’m in Harley’s car following the ambulance. She seems like she’s going to be okay, but she’s pretty messed up.” I look to the detective to make sure he hears everything. He pulls out his phone and starts tapping on the keypad as I continue to talk to Brady.

  “How did you find her?” I ask.

  “She and Harley have been seeing each other. She called him and told him where she was and I called 9-1-1. Like I said, she wrecked on Thompson Road, in that sharp curve where the speed limit switches to twenty-five. There’s so much shit I have to tell you, man. I’m about five minutes out. You still at the hospital?” he says quickly.

  “Yeah, I know where you’re talking about. Chloe’s not in the same room. Go to the ICU and instead of going through the wood double doors, go to the right. You’ll see me and Detective Sanders in the hallway,” I say.

  “All right, man. Harley wanted me to call him, but I’ll just come straight up there and talk to him there in person instead. They won’t let me in the emergency room with them anyway.”

  “He heard everything. I got ya on speaker. Be careful, bro.” We end the call and the detective taps on his screen then raises the phone to his ear.

  While he waits for the person he’s calling to answer, he looks at me. “I will be right back.” He turns and walks down the hall, leaving me to my own devices while he takes his call.

  I prop against the wall and watch his retreating form. He makes it four doors down before he stops. I strain to hear what he’s saying, but can’t make out the words he’s saying. He removes the phone from his ear and walks back over to me. “I’ve got an officer heading to the ER. There will be one already there but I want someone that’s already on Chloe’s case talking to her.” I nod in agreement. Although he doesn’t say it, I think he knows the incident is linked to Todd.

  Slowly, I open Chloe’s door and I hear her soft snores still filling the room. God, I love this woman.

  “Hey, man!” I shut the door, spinning quickly at the sound of Brady’s voice.

  “Hey!” I extend my hand to shake his.

  “I assume you both remember each other?” I gesture between Brady and the detective, they both nod and shake hands.

  The detective wastes no time at all. “So, son, what information do you have for me?” The detective’s no nonsense approach puts me at ease.

  “Sir, I only know what Harley told me, but I’ll tell you everything I know,” Brady states.

  “Of course. Give me a second.” We both look at the other confused when the detective walks off and turns the corner at the end of the hall. Brady and I stand in a suspenseful silence until the detective returns. He points to the room to the right of Chloe’s and continues. “Sally says this room is unoccupied. I would prefer not to have this conversation in the hallway, if you don’t mind.”

  We nod and he ushers us into the room. I stand near the wall that divides this room from Chloe’s so that I can hear her if she calls out for me. Brady takes the recliner, and the detective takes the bed.

  Hitting the record feature on his iPhone, he sets it on the bed and says, “Now, both of you state your names, the date, and time.” We do as he asks, and he continues. “This is the statement of Brady Andrews. Skye Collins is here for observation purposes. Now, if you will, Mr. Andrews.”

  Brady talks for the next thirty minutes about how Harley said he met Sara in the park near her house. How she had followed Todd from Chloe’s apartment to no-man’s land, confiscated Tom’s phone, and confronted him. He tells us about how Todd and Tom ran her off the road earlier today, and how as soon as she called, they went to her aid. Damn! I’m at a loss for words.

  “Thank you for your help,” the detective says. “I’m going to head to the ER and check on Miss. Kyle and Mr. Frasier. I’ll be in touch.” He gathers his phone from the bed.

  “Thank you, detective,” we both say in unison as he leaves the room. I’m so anxious to get back to Chloe that as soon as the detective is gone, I’m the next person out the door, Brady trailing closely behind me. Cracking her door, I see that she is on her side and still asleep, so I ease it shut again.

  Brady gives me a questioning look and I say, “I got some stuff to fill you in on.” I glance around the hall to make sure no one is around to overhear our conversation.

  Fifteen minutes later, I’ve told him about the text to Chloe from the unknown number and her reaction and sedation.

  “Shit, man! I don’t even know what to say.” Brady looks like I feel, confused and lost. Brady interrupts my thoughts. “You mind if I hang out for a while? Figured I could hang with you and Chloe until we hear something about Sara.”

  “Yeah, man. Come on in.” When we enter the room, Chloe is barely awake and sitting on the bed with a lost look on her face. Her eyes are hazed over from the sedatives and from just waking up.

  “Hey, baby, you’ve got a visitor.” She looks up in confusion for a moment, like she doesn’t know where she is. I can see the moment she remembers, and a sad smile stretches across her beautiful face.

  “Hey, Brady. How are you?” she asks with a soft, sexy rasp in her voice.

  “I’m good. You feel any better?” She nods.

  Horror washes over Chloe’s face and tears fill her eyes. “SARA!” she bellows as she tries to jump from the bed. Her face then twists in pain and her torso falls back to the bed.

  I’m beside her before she can attempt to get up again. Cradling her in my arms, I stroke her hair. “Shhh, baby. We found her. Calm down. It’s okay,” I whisper in her ear.

  Her body relaxes and she looks up at me. “Where was she? The text? That was her car! I know it was,” she says in-betw
een sobs.

  “Chloe, you have to calm down. She called Harley and Brady and told them where she was. Chloe, she’s in the ER. Harley’s with her. She’s okay.” She lunges to get up again

  “Chloe, stop! You’re going to hurt yourself!” I yell.

  “Let me go! I have to get to her! She needs me!” Chloe’s hysterical, and is showing no sign of calming down. I hit the nurse’s call button quickly. Chloe is bucking and struggling to get me off her but my hold is too strong.

  A moment later, a very concerned looking Sally comes running into Chloe’s room. “What’s the matter?” Sally asks, taking in the scene.

  “Sally, Sara had an accident and is in the ER. Is there any way we can get Chloe a chair so I can take her down there?” This gets Chloe’s attention and she quits struggling. Stubborn ass woman.

  Poor Sally looks unsure. “Let me call your doctor and make sure he’s okay with that. I don’t see why he wouldn’t be, but I still need to clear it with him. Quit fighting him, Chloe. You’re going to reinjure yourself.” I snicker silently as Sally scolds Chloe.

  Sally pulls a phone from the pocket on her smock and presses a button. Placing it to her ear, she gives us a kind smile. After a moment she speaks, “Yes, Doctor Jacobs, Chloe is fine. Sir, her power of attorney, Sara, has had an accident and is in the ER. She’s asking if she can go visit her if she goes in a chair.” She nods a couple of times. “Yes, sir. I will. Thank you.”

  She hangs up and looks to us. “I’ll be right back. You may go but I need to stay with you and you cannot, under any circumstances, get out of this chair. Do you understand?” Chloe nods.

  Sally leaves the room to get Chloe’s wheelchair. No one says anything until she returns. “You ready?” Sally asks Chloe. Chloe goes to stand, grabbing my shoulder to help steady her. When she’s in the chair, Brady and I follow them out of the room and down the hall in silence.

  Worst case scenarios assault me, one after the other. What if she has a turn for the worse and doesn’t make it? No, I can’t lose her, I have to stay positive. She’s going to be fine. But, what if she isn’t.