In A Different Time

Chapter 8

James Ryder POV

I took a swig from the bottle in my hand. I was lying on the couch with my eyes trained on the ceiling. The black hole inside of me was growing and the only thing helping me right now is my good ol' whiskey. I don't like the silence in my home and I also don't like the noise in my head. It's giving me a headache or maybe it's because I'm getting drunk... again.

The front door opened and I knew who it was already. It was either him or my driver, George. The only people who have access to my house.

"You've done it again, Jim! All praise from the director and producer. They even sent a nice birthday pre—" I turned my eyes towards my manager, Martin. He had a huge box in his hands with a disapproving look on his face. "Jim, it's seven in the morning."

"I'm celebrating my birthday. Cheers!" I raised the bottle in the air and gulped down the whiskey.

"You can't keep doing this, Jim." he reprimanded me. "I swear you're gonna end up dead with a bottle in your hand."

"Wouldn't that be a dream." I mumbled to myself. Good thing, Martin didn't hear a thing or else I'm gonna get a scolding. He always hate it whenever I talk about my death.

"Get your butt off the couch and come open this."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. I sluggishly sat up on the couch and Martin dropped the box on the coffee table. He gestured for me to start unwrapping. I grabbed the wrapper and rip it off. Martin winced on how I aggressively unwrap the box.

"Take it easy, Jim. You might ruin the gift." he told me.

"The thing is in the box. It won't get ruined." I replied and opened it. Inside the box is the latest Phonograph. I took it out and examined it. It was painted in black and gold and on the side was my name carved on it. "Well, this is nice."

"It is." Martin agreed. "Make sure to thank them."

"I will—"

I was cut off by loud coughing from outside. Martin and I stood still and stared at each other. I could hear the splashes of water coming from the pool. What the hell?

"I don't think that was George," Martin said.

"Neither do I." I frowned and stormed towards the back door. Martin followed hurriedly behind me. As I opened the door, I stared in shock while Martin started panicking. Just in time, George came behind us and cussed.

"Oh, my god! Oh, my god! Oh, my god!" he panicked and clutched his dark hair. "What is that?! Who is that?!"

I cautiously walked towards it. There was a thin stick by the bushes and I went to get it. As I neared the body, it was a girl lying face down. She wasn't moving. I poked her shoulder with my stick.

"Stop poking her like that with a stick! She's not some animal on the road, damn it!" Martin scolded at me. His eyes wandered down and he gasped. "Oh, god! She's bleeding, Jim! Can you see she's bleeding?! Oh, god!"

"Would you calm down, Martin. The girl's breathing so she's fine... I think," I said to him. I could see she was breathing. The bleeding on her leg looked bad. I wonder how she injured herself? George remained behind us. His eyes widened when he saw the bleeding girl.

"I can't calm down, Jim! There's a girl bleeding to death beside your pool!" he locked his eyes on George. "How did she even get here? George! Did you let her in?"

He frantically shook his head. "No, sir! I have no idea how sge got in. I was out front washin' the car when I heard loud coughin'. I thought it was Mr. James."

"Well, it wasn't me." I deadpanned. He was probably referring to the time when he found me drinking one night and I drank the whiskey in one swig that caused a coughing fit. My eyebrows furrowed when I observed her clothing. "What the hell is she wearing?"