Skins & Needles (COMPLETE)

The Gift

Arsen

The smell of blood assaulted my nostrils the moment I exited my truck, and I felt my stomach sink impossibly lower. The blood was most definitely Charlotte's, the scent mixing with another's, and I knew then that whatever I had felt in the Pass was linked to her. With each step forward, the remaining shreds of doubt about whether we had a bond slipped away, but so did my hope that what I'd find inside her apartment would be anything less than my deepest nightmare.

There was a smear of blood on the railing leading up to her door. Someone else's. I moved past it and up the stairs. My heart was roaring in my ears, and an adrenaline rush unlike any I'd ever felt coursed through my veins.

What if I'm too late?

The thought had my knees weakening, but somehow, I made it to her door. When I pushed it open, nothing immediately looked out of the ordinary. Her couch sat untouched with her sketchbook lying open on the coffee table, and her TV displayed a nature documentary, David Attenborough's voice softly playing over the scene. It was almost serene.

And then, I looked toward her kitchen.

At first, I only saw feet sticking out from behind the island.

And then, as I stepped cautiously further into the apartment, I saw the blood.

All the blood.

It covered the white linoleum in puddles and smudges, and the counters in little droplets and splatters. From my vantage point, I could see it pooling beneath her torso, but when I tried to move closer, it felt like I was wading through chest-deep water.

"Charlotte?" I asked softly, my voice cracking for the first time since I was fifteen.

No response.

I called her name again as I made my way around her island, but my voice was barely a whisper. All I could think was how I never told her how I truly felt. How she'd never heard me say I loved her. When her face came into view at last, I fell to my knees.

"Oh, God," I breathed, my hands going to my hair as I took in her still form.

Blood soaked through her flowery tank top and onto the floor around her from multiple wounds. One of her wrists was bruising where it lay limp at her side. But her face was what had me fighting against my darkening vision. Two cuts, no, gouges went across each of her cheeks, leaving her face almost completely red, and below her chin...

I blinked back into focus, and realized she had pressed fabric to her neck, and was holding it there with her other hand. The smallest spark of hope lit within me, and with newfound strength, I moved to her side.

"Char," I whispered, ignoring the blood soaking into my jeans and touching her damp hair. "Christ, Char, please be in there."

I carefully brushed her cheek where it wasn't cut, and then thumbed her bottom lip. Just as I was about to check for a pulse, her eyelids fluttered the slightest, and the relief that washed over me hit like a tidal wave.

"Arsen." The word made no sound, but the movement of her lips spoke volumes.

"Oh, Charlotte, oh, God," I sputtered. "What happened? Oh, fuck, we have to get you to a hospital now. Fuck, I can't move you. Shit."

Her free hand brushed my knee, and my eyes zeroed in on the drenched fabric she held to her throat, and then her lips.

"No time," was what she mouthed, and my head was shaking before the words even processed.