Cruel Trust

Twenty-One

Andrew opened the door, helped me up into the car, then ran around to the other side. He started the ignition and squealed the tires as he backed up out of the driveway. He connected his iPhone to my Bluetooth and dialed 911.

"You've reached 911, what's your emergency?" a professional but sweet-sounding young lady answered.

Andrew opened his mouth, but I put my hand over his. He dipped his head in my direction.

"My name is Charlotte Jameson, and my ex-boyfriend attacked me in my home a few minutes ago."

"Are you okay? Do you need medical attention?"

"I am fine." Relatively speaking. "My boyfriend came in and my ex ran away. I think he may have hurt my best friend before he came to my house." My voice cracked, but I continued. "We wondered if you could send someone to check on her."

"Yes ma'am, what's her name and address?" she asked, and I heard the clack clack of her keyboard as she typed.

"Her name is Julia Stone. 3227 Georgia Avenue."

"All right, I've got someone en route now. Make sure you file a police report about what happened at your house, Ms. Jameson. And soon, so we will have a better chance of catching your ex," the operator replied.

"Okay, I will. I promise. Thank you for your help."

"You're welcome. Be safe." The line disconnected.

I squeezed Andrew's knee and he put his hand over mine.

"Hurry."

The traffic from my neighborhood to Julia's was light since it was Thanksgiving, but it was still a 13-mile drive. But Andrew sped the entire way, and we got to Julia's house in ten minutes. He took a sharp left into her driveway, and I was jumping out of the car before he even put it in park. When my feet hit the driveway, I noticed drops of blood on the concrete.

"Oh my God," I rasped, running to her door with Andrew close behind.

I gripped the doorknob when Andrew put his hand on my shoulder and pulled me gently behind him.

"Let me go first. We don't know what we're going to find in there."

I paused, then removed my hand from the doorknob and nodded. Andrew kissed my temple and turned the knob. It was unlocked. Not a good sign; Julia always locked her door...always.

I held my breath as we stepped over the threshold. I stayed close behind and let Andrew lead the way.

We followed the hallway to her living room. When we reached the doorway, I almost fainted. Julia was lying in the floor, surrounded by shards of broken glass and wood from her coffee table.

I shrieked and ran to her, falling on my knees on the broken glass but not even noticing or caring about the pain. "Julia, Julia honey, please. Are you okay?" I cried, putting my hands on her face. I looked up at Andrew in terror. He shook his head in disbelief, frozen in place.

She wasn't moving, and her skin was pale. I looked her over and inhaled when I noticed her left leg. It was twisted, and on second glance, I noticed a deep gash on her chest that had obviously lost her a lot of blood.

"Andrew. Is she—?" I choked, not able to finish the question.

He knelt next to me and rested his fingers on her wrist. "She has a pulse. It's faint, but it's there."

I exhaled, gathering Julia into my arms and holding her close. "It's going to be okay, Jules. Help is coming. They're on their way." I heard sirens coming down her street and tears fell from my eyes to the top of her head. Andrew ran outside to meet the paramedics and I just sat there, holding my best friend in my arms, praying to God that she wasn't dying.