Hunted

Chapter 24- Survival

Time slowed.

My heart pounded in my ears, as I felt the sense of falling start, as my feet and body no longer felt contact with anything except empty space. Gaping empty space that threatened to send me into a screaming panic. The floor we'd been on vanished. 

Then it ended, sudden, as my hands connected with a metal railing and my arms screamed in protest. Suddenly the world was moving at the normal pace again, my body jerking violently to a stop a floor down, but my hands held and the fall was stopped. 

I struggled, panting, swinging as my hands tried to get a better grip on the metal railings. One leg came up, one foot tried to get onto the concrete, only to find the slippery fabric of my dress and fall back down again. I swore, sweat beading down my forehead, and tried again, trying to yank my dress up as high as it could go. The sole of the shoe slipped, just for a second, before the shoe fell off and fell.

I hung there, panting, trying to get something back. I tried again. Bare foot had better traction than a shoe, and it held somehow. I hoisted myself back up over the bars with every ounce of strength I had in me, falling awkwardly on the other side and rolling.

I was up in an instant, ready to battle, ready to fight with everything I had. I expected to see him waiting for me on the other side.

No one was there. Nothing.

Blood pounded in my head. I saw him, on the stairs, I saw this shape lying there and did vomit this time. It was hard not to.

He lay down the stairs, eyes blank, his head at an impossible angle with his body. There was no doubt that he'd broken his neck, it was obvious with his body facing the wall and his head facing up the stairs at me, but I still tensed, fear screaming in me, expecting for him to get up at any second and come back at me. I couldn't even look at him properly. It was all out of the corner of my eye. He just lay there. Dead. A foul smell filling the air around him, urine, where he'd pissed himself as he'd fallen.

I had to go past him, I had to get my key off him, and I stood there, panting, rivers of sweat running down my spine and making the dress cling. The movement towards him was slow, tense, every muscle ready to leap backwards the second he stopped pretending dead and came for me, even though I could see he was dead, even though I couldn't hear his rushed heartbeat any more, my instincts terrified of what he could do.

With every last scrap of courage I had, I inched closer, avoiding the puddle he'd left, bending over to yank the keycard out of the pants that were still around his ankles. Then I rushed down the stairs, only pausing to yank the remaining heel off, trying to remember where I was supposed to be going. The number of my room still evaded me and I was too terrified to spend any amount of time trying strange doors, possibly confrontations with whoever was inside, which meant that I'd have to go to the lobby and ask for help.

I decided to play drunk. They'd believe that on New Years Eve- that I was some drunk bimbo who'd lost one shoe, forgotten the room number and had lost her fiance somewhere. I got into the lift, ignoring the stares by the people inside, and stumbled out into the lobby.

I heard Nick before I saw him, voice raised, giving orders like I'd never seen him give orders before. He was waving an arm around at the desk, clearly upset, and when he saw me he nearly fell over himself with relief.

Only for a second though. His eyes took in my appearance, the sweat, the dress bunched up around my waist a bit too much, my blood nose, his nostrils flaring as the smell of my fear, blood and panic and sweat overtook him, and his face tightened.

"Sorry, I got a little lost. I lost a shoe and hit my nose." I did the drunk thing very well, the glances between the hotel workers obvious, but they were quick to pretend as if this was no big deal.