Roses

Chapter 34

Zoey

Warm droplets cling to my skin desperately, making it impossible for me to not think about what they are. Who am I kidding though? It's not like I can ignore the dead body two feet away from me. And probably another one another few feet away...

"Baby," Adam whispers from my peripheral vision. My eyes are focused on a random, not red, spot on the floor. He moves towards me, making me jolt away.

"Don't," I whisper back. He seems to listen, as his form stays glued to the floor where he stands.

A minute later, he's talking on the phone. Fifteen minutes later, sirens blare outside reminding me of another such fateful day from my childhood.

Someone wraps a blanket around me and that's when I finally look up to examine the room. A stream of police officers file in as others are huddled around either Peterson. An EMT works on one of Sam's arms that hangs limply by his side, dried blood on it. He looks otherwise okay and doesn't seem to have any problem talking to two police officers.

Everyone is busy playing their part. There's only one other person in the room who is as inert as I am.

Adam stands beside Sam, seemingly unharmed but his eyes, that are trained on me, betraying his pain. What is he hurting for?

"You're safe now, sweetie," I flinch at the endearment, remembering how Francesca used it. The female police officer who said it to me gets alarmed and asks quickly, "Are you in any pain?"

I stare at her for a few moments before muttering, "Just... just my back."

"We're going to take a look at it, okay?" She continues in her sweet, calm voice that surprisingly does make me feel a little bit better. I always noticed how emergency responders treated victims almost like they'd treat a five year old kid in documentaries and movies. Guess it all makes sense now.

Another EMT joins her and they both sit behind me. They inspect my back and treat the couple spots the vase Michael smashed on it pierced the skin. I wince a few times and the police officer holds my hand while I notice Adam clenching his jaw so tight, his teeth could break.

But I'm not in pain. My reaction has little to do with the superficial injuries on my back.

Once my back is dealt with, one of the police officers talking to Sam comes to speak to me.

"Hello Miss Kirby, I'm Deputy Chief Gibson," he says in a polite tone. "From the statements of Mr. Perez and Mr. Thorns, it is clear you were under attack when they entered your house, correct?"

"Yes," I croak and then clear my throat. "Francesca held a gun to my back as we entered my home. Michael followed. They-"

"Yes?"

"They admitted they were the serial killers."

Gibson maintains the same expression other than the slight twitching of his left eye. "Go on."

I narrate everything that happened since Michael asked to see me this afternoon, leaving only the mention of Vinny Matthers and a couple other things I knew I needed to ask one person first.

"He said there's no one in the CCTV footage," he murmurs as if deep in thought.

"Yes."

"I should've known," he mutters, his expression still faraway. Then he quickly shakes his head and continues, "Mr. Thorns came to me three days ago asking for updates on your case."

This is news to me. But then since the break-in attempt, he has been very serious about my safety. I should have expected him to keep bugging the officers on updates.