Ginger Fox Part 4
“Your thing?” His hand is swift, grabbing my chin again, crushing it between his fingers to make me look at him, pressing down hard on my skin, while his jaw clenches. “I suppose it should be ‘thing of mine,’ Gim.”
“I’m not hurt.” I try to wriggle out of his iron grip, feeling uneasy about his dominating hold over me.
I’m in excruciating pain! Every part of my body is sensitive, but not injured. The pain in some areas strangely feels good, not the opposite. God! I’m losing all sense of direction! My body feels pleased with the marks from our rough sex.
“I’ll ask just one more time. Why did you go to the pharmacy, Ginger?” His calm voice is as treacherous and deceitful as his eyes locked on mine.
I lower my gaze to his tie, knowing I can’t hide anything from him while I’m under his intense stare.
“I went to buy ointment.” My mouth blurts out the first excuse that comes to mind.
The warm air from his breath against my skin becomes heavy. I see the uneven movements of his chest with every breath he takes and notice his lips forming a sardonic smile at the corner of his mouth. Automatically, I wish I could retract what I just said. The sound of the lawnmower breaks his attention, making him turn his face toward Robert, who’s mowing the lawn on the other side of the garden. Amid the infernal noise of the machine, I hear a distant scream. Seizing this moment of distraction, with Roy loosening his grip on my chin, I make a swift escape, opening the mansion’s entrance door and darting into the hall.
What makes me freeze, my eyes wide and my heart racing, is not the rough yank on my arm, pressing his chest against my back, growling angrily in my ear, but the terrifying scene ahead that makes Roy fall silent, staring in shock at the same thing I am.
“God!” I pull away from Jonathan and rush to Bob’s side, cradling his face with my hands. His body is twisted, one of his legs showing an exposed fracture. “Bob… Oh my God, Bob…”
His dilated eyes are wide, and a tear slides down his face. He breathes unevenly, groaning through blood-red teeth, spitting out viscous liquid between coughs. His hands grasp my wrist, looking at me with sheer terror.
“Help! Jonathan, call for HELP!” I raise and turn my face in panic to Roy, who’s already on the phone, speaking to someone.
“Don’t move him, Gim!” His hand rises, pointing at me, warning me not to touch the injured young man.
The agonizing sound from Bob’s blood-streaked lips seems to wish he could speak. He grips my wrist tighter, making me look at him.
“Bob… it’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay,” I whisper through tears, feeling helpless in the face of his pain.
I have every reason not to like this boy, but I would never be so low as to not suffer at this sight. I look at his leg, which is pooling blood beneath his thighs, with the bone protruding out, tearing through nerves and flesh.
“Gi...” Bob tries to say my name as I try to calm him. I use the sleeve of my shirt to wipe the blood from his cheeks.
“Don’t talk, don’t try to speak. It’s going to be okay.”
“What’s all this noise?” The elderly woman who exits the room walks with her glass of juice, accompanied by Lira, who follows quickly behind her and gasps in shock upon seeing the injured boy.
Aunt Charlote is supported by the maid, who helps her before her frail body collapses.
“The paramedics are on their way,” Roy says, nervously hanging up the phone and rushing to assist his aunt. He lifts her in his arms, disappearing into the room while shouting orders to Lira.
“Preci...” Bob coughs, spitting out another wave of blood.
“What?” I shake my head, sobbing through my tears. “What do you need, Bob?” I lift my hand to wipe my tear-filled eyes, terrified for Bob’s life.
“Preci...” He tightens his grip on my wrist, his eyes wide open. His pupils dart towards the stairs, as if trying to show me something. “Pre…”
“Bob… Oh, my God! BOBBB!” I hold his face tighter as his hand slips from my wrist and falls beside his head. His breathing slows down.
His eyes remain open and fixed in the direction of the stairs. I lift my face amidst my tears and look up there. It’s when I see the top of the stairs that I’m lost, spotting the curled-up form of the fatal blonde pressed against the wall, hiding her face among her hair and looking at her legs. Lorane is collapsed on the ground, sobbing in agony, clutching Baby’s leg.
“Baby!”
The fatal blonde quickly turns her head, locking her blue eyes on me. She is trembling. I see the tears streaming down her face. She presses her fingers tightly to the ground beside her body. Baby is frightened, crying uncontrollably. She shakes her head in denial, raising her hand with fear to cover her face, keeping it out of Bob’s view at the bottom of the stairs. The aspiring Joker’s eyes are petrified, staring not at the stairs but at the women, especially at Baby. Eyes full of pain, eyes full of hurt, eyes that condemn.
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