RED LINE [3]

20:00

Madeline Scott:

Water rippled down my body, a pool of blood around my feet as I placed a hand on the wall in front of me, the cool tiles differing from the heat that was steaming off my body.

"Are you okay?" his voice comes from across the bathroom, the door clicking behind him.

A waft of cool air hits my back as I run my hands down my hair, my face looking up towards the water. My naked body was aching from standing all day, the flats of my feet now planted on the floor flat instead of my heels: I was exhausted.

Turning the shower off I take the towel that was being extended to me, a hushed thank you and I wrap it around my body, looking at myself in the mirror.

The bags under my eyes was drooping, my skin was aging by the day – I grab the wine glass from the shelf of the mirror, looking at myself in the reflection as I knock my head back, letting the warm liquid trickle down my throat.

He was watching my every move, his chest bare as a pair of black joggers hung low on his waist, cutting off just below his v-line – I tried to divert my gaze but I turned, leaning back against the counter, crossing my arms, "any update?" I asked raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing yet, she still hasn't woken up. Her dad hasn't left the room in days now, but she's stable." His words weren't reassuring as I strode out the bathroom and back into the hotel room.

I sigh, placing the glass on the bedside table. I drop the towel from under my arms, bending down to my suitcase on the floor and pulling out a pair of underwear and white tank top, "Jesus Madeline," his voice low.

I sit down on the edge of the bed, my clothes sticking to my still slightly damp skin, my hair wet tails against my back – raw, real.

George moves across the room in one stride, kneeling down before me, "you are and will forever be the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on." I felt myself caving at his words slightly, my shoulders slump and I feel myself leaning into his touch as his hands brush over my arms, "it is not your fault, she will forgive you."

I sigh, looking up at the white ceiling, my neck clicking, "I don't know if I will forgive her." I mumble, a slight chuckle leaving my lips.

It had been two days since Maddy had been admitted to hospital, she was unconscious, having not woken yet, only a few bumps and bruises but she was centimetres away having her neck sliced into by a part of the fence, if she had moved or been thrown around more – if it wasn't for her harness and how tight it had been done up, it would have severed her head.

Her dad had flown in from England, he hadn't been there during the accident as he was preoccupied with work – the pain in his face when he saw her, the guilt that riddled my body as I watched him break before her, I almost threw up.

What no one failed to mention was Jack, sitting in the waiting room, still in his track clothes from Saturday – he had refused to race on Sunday.

"What do you mean you're not going to race?" I scowled at him in the waiting room; his eyes were tired, his cheekbones had almost sunken into his face as he rested his forearms on his knees, "you heard, I'm not leaving until she wakes up. You can get replacement drivers, call up Tyler and Bianca, they'll jump at the chance to race."

"You can't not race Jack, she is fine," I crossed my arms, standing taller as I looked down on him. He shook his head, "I'm not leaving her Madeline."

He had never called me by my first name before, always addressing me as 'Miss Scott' I had never told him to do that, I had also never told him to call my differently, so when my first name came from his mouth, I saw the emotions pouring from him as he breathed deeply.