in the night | the weeknd

eight

Jasmine

Dre's face twists in pain and he slumps to the floor. He pulls the knife out and it clatters to the floor, causing a few spots of blood to fall.

I feel sick and dizzy looking at the blood splattered on the white floor. I start to feel myself panicking as I listen to Dre grasping for air.

'Laura," he whispers. "Help me."

My breathing starts to go heavy. What the hell do I do? I can't call the police - they'll want to know everything about me. And there's no way I'm going on the run - I'm done running.

I run out into the hallway and grab my phone from my jacket pocket. With shaking fingers, I dial the only person I can think of right now.

He picks up. "Hello?" Abel says.

"Abel," I say, voice shaking.

"Jasmine?" he says, an alarmed tone in his voice. "Whats wrong?"

"I need you," I whisper. "I've done something bad. I need you to come here. Please."

"Send me the address," Abel tells me and I hang up and text him the address.

I slowly walk back into the kitchen. I know it's not right for me to drag Abel into my mess, but I honestly don't know what to do right now.

"Bitch," Dre spits while beads of sweat run down his forehead. "Fucking help me."

"I'll get you help, only if you promise not to tell them that I did this," I say.

Dre laughs bitterly to himself. He looks like a fucking snake. He winces in pain. "Fine," he says finally. "I won't tell them you did this to me."

I breathe a sigh of relief, but don't call the police of ambulance yet. I need Abel to get here first.

"Call them, Laura," Dre says, eyes half-closed. "Please."

That's his last word.

I cover my hand with my mouth, realising that he's gone. I killed a man. He may have deserved it, but I killed him.

I'm a murderer.

I sink to the floor and just stare at Dre's lifeless body. Maybe if I stare long enough he'll come back to life, meaning that I won't be a murdered anymore.

Ten minutes later, I hear a knock on the front door. I go over to open, but it doesn't open. Remembering that the bastard locked it, I look around hastily for the key until I find it hidden in his jacket pocket. I quickly unlock it and Abel comes in, along with Lamar, worried expressions on both of their faces

"What's wrong?" Abel asks.

I don't say anything, I just walk into the kitchen and they follow me.

"Jasmine," Lamar says slowly. "What the hell did you do?"

"I . . . I had no choice," I start to explain. "I had to do this."

"We should call the police," Lamar says.

"No!" I snap. "I can't . . . They'll ask me questions. If you call the police, it means I have to go on the run again. I can't have my family knowing that I'm Toronto again - especially my step brother."

"No police," Abel says now. He squeezes his eyes shut and rakes a hand through his hair. He turns to look at me. "Why'd you do it?"

I bite my lip, wondering if I should tell them or not. "He was abusive," I answer and Abel's eyes flash with anger. "After he saw me talking to you both earlier, he told me that he wanted me to stop working at the club. And to earn money, he wanted me to be his own personal prostitute. He was going to rape me. I just . . . I couldn't let any of that happen, so I grabbed the knife and stabbed him."

Abel's jaw is clenched and Lanar's hands are balled up into fists. "What do we do?" Lamar asks Abel.

"We have to get rid of the body," Abel says.

I feel a rush of guilt swarm me. This isn't their fault. I should be cleaning up after my own mess. "I'll do it," I tell them and they look at me like I'm mad.

"Are you an idiot?" Abel snaps. "Go and pack your stuff. We'll take care of this."

I nod and go upstairs and start packing my things as quickly as I can. I go through the draws and find Dre's stash of drugs and shove them into my bag.

* * *

Later on, I'm sitting in the back seat of Abel's car. I always catch him looking at me in the rear view mirror. He's probably trying to see if I'm breaking down, but the truth is, I feel calm and free. But even though I feel like that, there's guilt lurking inside me, eating away at me slowly.

I asked them what they did with Dre's body, but they only responded by saying "The less you know the better."

Abel pulls up outside of an apartment.

Lamar turns to look at me. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" he says softly and I smile at him.

"Thank you," I whisper. "For everything." I lean forward and hug him. We stay like that for a long time - we are making up for seven years after all. I pull away and smile at him.

"It's good to see you again, Jas," he says, pinching my cheek, like how he always used to. "Don't go running off again without tell us, got it?"

I nod and smile at him. "Okay," I say. Lamar daps Abel and gets out the car and Abel starts driving again.

"I'm sorry I dragged you into my mess," I say into the silence, while looking out of the window.

"I'm glad you did," Abel says. "I wouldn't want you going through that alone."

I turn to look at him and our eyes meet in the mirror. I smile at him gratefully and lean over to put my hand on his shoulder. "You're an amazing friend," I tell him. "You and Lamar."

"Friend," Abel says slowly and I bite my lip. Why is he saying it like that? That's what we are - friends. Right?

"Thanks for letting me crash at your apartment," I tell him. "I'll be gone by a week."

Abel pulls up outside his apartment. "No, you can stay with me permanently;" he says. "Just don't go off somewhere without telling me, okay?"

"I won't."

And this time, I actually mean it.