Hellcat

Chapter Sixteen

After an hour of searching, I got desperate. Dialing Matt's number, I was answered by his voicemail. "Matt, if you're there you seriously need to pick up. I turned my back for two seconds and Foggy ran off. Now I can't find him. I already checked his place – nothing. If you have any other ideas, please call me back," I sighed before hanging up. I had no other options now, so I decided to go to Matt's apartment. I doubted Foggy would have gone there, but if Matt was home and just didn't answer the phone, at least I could get him to help me find his drunken, wayward best friend.

As I climbed up the stairs of Matt's apartment building, someone rushed past me. "Excuse me," the person muttered. I stepped aside before watching the woman rush up the stairwell, taking the stairs two at a time. She had black hair that swung down her back. But something was off. Her voice was familiar. Claire? As I watched the nurse rush off, I noticed she was carrying a red duffle bag with a white cross on it. A first-aid kit. My eyes snapped wide as I processed what this could mean. Claire was in Matt's building with first aid equipment, running like the Devil was on her heels.

Before I could even think the words that filled my entire being with dread, I was running up the stairs after her. Panic filled me as I dashed up the stairs. Heart pounding in my chest, I finally reached the top floor. I practically slammed against Matt's door I was going so fast. When I stopped moving forward, my fist started pounding on the door. "Matt, open the door. Please. I swear, if you don't open this door, I'm gonna kill you," I called out, not caring if I woke the neighbors. "Please, Matt?" I called out, a tiny shred of hope filling me. Maybe it wasn't Claire. Maybe Matt wasn't home. Maybe he was out there, but still safe. Maybe my mind was just imagining the worst possible things.

When the door swung open, I jumped back, feeling my heart leap in my chest. But I wasn't met by the tired, grumpy face of a rudely awakened Matt. No, Foggy stood there, nervousness clear on his face even though he tried to hide it. "Foggy? What the hell are you doing here? I've been looking everywhere for you!" I snapped at him, momentarily forgetting my fears. "I, uh... I needed to talk to Matt," he told me. "O-okay. Can I talk to him?" I asked, hoping to slip past. But as I took a step forward, Foggy closed the door slightly, using his body to block my access to the apartment.

"Uh... that's not possible. He's... not home," Foggy lied terribly. I shot him a glare. "Then why are you here?" I growled at him. "I was just gonna wait for him. He hides the spare key above the trim," Foggy told me, pointing to the trim above the doorframe. "Well, then I'll wait too," I said, moving to step forward again. "No!" Foggy snapped, panic rising to his face. "Foggy, if you don't move out of my way, I will move you myself!" I shouted at him. His eyes went wide and his jaw slackened.

In his surprise, it was easy to shove him back a few steps and rush into the apartment. "No, wait!" he shouted, but as I rounded the corner into the living room, my feet came to an abrupt stop. I was right – and I hated it.

Claire was knelt beside the couch, digging through her first aid bag while an unconscious Matt lay bleeding on the couch. I breath escaped me and it felt like all of the air was knocked out of my lungs. My heart seemed to stop beating in my chest and time was froze as Claire stared at me with wide eyes. But I was looking at Matt. Blood covered his face and bare torso. Cuts and stab wounds riddled his upper body. The scarlet liquid seemed to just flow out of him.

Forcing myself to stop feeling and start thinking, I unglued my feet from the floor. Taking a hair tie from my wrist, I roughly pulled the blonde strands back from my face as I knelt beside Claire. "Uh, who the hell are you?" she asked me as I started digging into her bag. "Allison," I answered simply, my voice cold and clinical. Snatching up a suture needle and some stitching thread, I turned towards Matt.