Caught in a Chase

51 - Darkness

I was laying on the couch watching the news. Some maniac had shot up a Detroit movie theatre. The carnage was devastating and the death toll rising fast.

I'd checked in with my kids as soon as the news broke, relieved no one was there. I felt for all the parents losing their children tonight. I shook my head. They really needed to amend the gun laws in this country. It was crazy this kept happening.

My phone rang and Hailie's name showed on the screen.

"Hey – "

"Dad you have to do something!" she cried.

I sat up, panic surging through me. "What's wrong? Are you hurt? Where are you?"

"No, I'm fine," she sobbed. "But I can't get a hold of Chelsea!"

"It's okay baby, she's probably just busy. I'm sure she'll call you back soon," I said, confused at her distress.

"You don't understand!" Hailie cried. "I talked to her this afternoon. She went to that theatre tonight."

Fear wrapped icy fingers around my heart.

"Are you sure?"

"Y-Yes."

"How many times you call her?" I asked, standing and starting to pace.

"Every 10 minutes since I saw the news. It just rings and goes to voicemail. Dad I'm scared!"

"I'm sure she's fine. I'll see what I can find out and let you know," I promised and hung up.

I called Chelsea, praying she'd pick up. It rang until voicemail kicked in, just as Hailie said. Next I called Paul.

"Whatever extra security you can arrange, have them meet me at the hospital now," I said.

"Oh no. The theatre shooting? One of the girls?" he asked.

"No they're all fine, thank God," I said.

"Then... ?" Paul asked.

"Maybe Chelsea. Hailie talked to her this afternoon. She was there tonight and not answering her phone now," I swallowed hard. "I have to go and make sure ..."

"Shit," Paul swore. "I'll have security there in 15 mintues. Call me as soon as you know anything."

"Thanks," I hung up and grabbed my keys.

All the way to the hospital I bargained and pleaded with God. Please let her be okay and I'll do more charity work, be a better person, whatever you want, just please let her be okay. You've already taken so many people, you can't have Chelsea too. Please let her be okay. She has to be okay.

But the fear growing in the pit of my stomach argued otherwise. As much as she hated me now, the only reason Chelsea wouldn't answer Hailie's calls was if she couldn't.

The security guys were waiting by the hospital emergency room entrance. With my hat low and hood up, I nodded to them and headed inside.

The waiting room was chaos. People were screaming and crying. Police were trying to keep everyone calm while doctors and nurses rushed around. I didn't know who to ask about Chelsea. There was no one at the check in desk.

"Fuck this," I muttered and walked past the desk into the patient area, looking for her. The security guys trailed after me.

I was halfway around the room when a nurse stopped me.

"You're not suppose to be back here," she said.

"I'm looking for my girlfriend, Chelsea Wade. Short, blond," I said. "Please. She was at the theatre..."

The annoyed looked on her face was replaced with a sympathetic one. "We don't have a complete list of names yet. Have a quick look around, then please go back to the waiting room."

"Thank you," I said.

I finished walking around the large room, looking into the cubicles at the patients. None of them were Chelsea.

"Fuck," I swore, rubbing my hands over my face.

If she was at the theatre, not answering her phone and not at the hospital ... then she really could be dead. I sagged against the wall, not able to support myself. This couldn't be happening.

"Hey."

I turned to see a tall guy standing by the doors to the waiting room. His shirt identified him as Fire & Rescue.

"You're Eminem, aren't you?" he asked quietly.

I just nodded, hoping the guy didn't freak out. I couldn't handle fan shit right now, I was barely keeping it together. He hesitated, then walked over.

"I heard you talking to the nurse a minute ago. You're looking for a small, blond girl?"

"Yes!" I said as hope surged in me.

"I was one of the first responders on scene. A blond was administering first aid to a couple survivors. They brought her to the hospital to get checked out but I haven't seen her since," he said.

"She's alive then," I breathed. "Thank you."

"If it's the girl you're looking for," he held up his hands in caution. "Lot of blondes out there. But I hope it's your girl."

"Right. Thanks," I nodded, still relieved. Administering first aid and helping survivors sounded like Chelsea.

The fireman said they'd brought her to the hospital to be checked out. But she wasn't in the waiting room or the emergency room. Time to branch out and find her.

I started down the various hallways, peeking quickly into open rooms. Down one hallway I saw a nurse and doctor looking down at the floor. Moving closer, I saw a figure seated, back against the wall knees pulled into her chest.

"Chelsea!"

I jogged towards her. The nurse and doctor turned to me.

"Do you know her?" the nurse asked.

"Yes! My girlfriend. Is she alright?"

I knelt beside Chelsea on the floor. She was covered in blood and staring straight ahead.

"She came in with the shooting victims. Physically she appears alright, but she's in shock," the doctor said. "Hasn't spoken a word to anyone since arriving."

"She has no ID, no phone, no bag. We didn't know who to call," the nurse added.

"Chelsea? Can you hear me baby? Are you okay?" I asked, brushing her hair back from her face. She didn't response.

I looked up at the doctor. "Does she have to stay here? Can I take her home?"

"Normally we'd keep her, treat the shock and ensure she's okay. But tonight," the doctor motioned to the surrounding chaos. "I think being here is worse for her. If you provide her name and contact information to the police so they can question her later, we'll release her," the doctor said.

"Thank you," I nodded.

The nurse gave me further instructions to treat the shock and then they moved on to another patient. I turned to my security guys and asked one of them to bring my car around to the entrance.

"Come on, we're going home now," I put an arm around Chelsea's waist and helped her stand.

We walked to the waiting room and approached one of the policemen. He looked at Chelsea's blood-soaked clothing.

"Does she need medical attention?" he asked.

"No. The doctor said I can take her home if I give you her contact information for later questioning about the shooting."

He nodded, wrote down her name, my number and thanked me.

I walked Chelsea out to the waiting car. She still hadn't said a word, didn't seem aware of anything that was happening. I settled her into the passenger seat and waited for her to put on the seat belt. She didn't move. Reaching across, I buckled her in and closed the door. Thanking the security guys, I slid into the driver seat.

On the drive home I kept glancing over at Chelsea. She stared straight ahead wordlessly, almost like a zombie. I began to wonder if I'd done the right thing by taking her from the hospital.

Once home, I lead her upstairs to the bedroom. She needed to clean all the blood off. What she must have gone through tonight ...

"Here you go baby. You can get cleaned up," I spoke softly, leading her into the ensuite bathroom. "I'll be right outside if you need me."

I gently shut the door and sat down on the bed. Pulling out my phone, I sent texts to Hailie and Paul letting them know Chelsea was alive and with me and that I'd check in with them tomorrow.

I sighed and leaned back on the bed, fear and adrenaline no longer keeping me going. It was another five minutes before I realized I didn't hear running water.

"Chels? You okay?" I called.

No answer. I opened the door slowly and peeked in. She was standing exactly where I'd left her. She hadn't moved.

Walking into the bathroom, I wondered what to do. Technically she wasn't my girlfriend any more. She'd left me and hated my guts. But she'd been through hell tonight and was covered in blood. She needed to shower and seemed incapable of doing it by herself.

Should I call someone to help her? I could call one of her volunteer friends, maybe Robyn ... No. I didn't want anyone else taking care of her.

"Okay ... I'm going to help you get these bloody clothes off," I said, moving behind her and waiting for any objection.

When she didn't respond, I pulled her cardigan off and dropped it on the floor. Next I gently tugged her t-shirt over her head. Slowly I unhooked her bra, releasing her breasts. She didn't protest or react in any way.

I swallowed hard and reached around to undo the button of her jeans. Slowly I pulled them and her panties down to her ankles. Putting one foot on the jeans and holding Chelsea by her waist, I nudged her to step out of them.

I moved to the shower and turned the water on, trying to distract myself. The woman I'd longed for night after night was now naked in front of me and my dick didn't care this was an inappropriate time. I was rock hard.

When the water was warm, I guided Chelsea into the shower.

"Here you go. Imma leave you to it and get rid of these clothes. I'll be back soon to check on you."

Balling the bloody clothes up in a towel, I headed down stairs to the kitchen for a trash bag. I dumped everything in and tied the top closed. I tossed the bag into the garage and went back upstairs.

I looked into the bathroom. Chelsea stood where I'd left her in the shower, unmoving. I walked in and leaned against the counter, assessing. Where the water was hitting her had washed away some of the blood, but she still had more in her hair and on her face.

I opened the stall door and turned her back to the shower, wetting her hair. Water ran down my arm soaking my sleeve. I moved away and considered again what to do. There wasn't much I could do.

I stripped my shirt and pants off, tossing them on the floor. As I added my socks to the pile, I contemplated my boxers. Given my erection, it was probably best to leave them on.

I stepped into the shower with Chelsea. Grabbing the shampoo, I gently washed the blood from her hair. Then repeated the process with the conditioner. Finally I grabbed the soap to clean the rest of her.

As I ran my hands over her body, I tried to block out the sensation and memories without success. 

"Okay, all done," I said, my voice strained as I turned off the water.

Stepping out of the shower, I grabbed a towel and dried Chelsea. Then I stripped off my wet boxers and quickly dried myself.

Guiding Chelsea into the bedroom, I pulled on another pair of boxers and found a large t-shirt for her to wear to bed.

Then I had another dilemma. Where was she going to sleep? We weren't together and there's no way in hell she'd have slept in the same bed as me yesterday. But after what she'd been through tonight and my own need to be close to her, I didn't want to put her in a guest room alone.

"Are you okay sleeping here with me?" I asked softly, motioning to the bed.

When she didn't answer, didn't move, I walked Chelsea over to the bed. She lay down and I climbed in beside her. Pulling her against my chest, I stroked her wet hair and ran my hand down her back.

"I was so scared when I found out you were at that theatre. And when I couldn't find you ... I promised God anything if he'd just let you be okay. I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you," I murmured. "I'm so sorry baby. For everything. I love you."

Whether the shock wore off or the trance broke, Chelsea showed the first sign of life. She started to cry.