I jingled my keys as I walked up to the storage unit. My boots crunched on top of the gravel I’d just had poured yesterday. I heard the first whimper as I stepped up to the door. My hand froze as I looked behind me, seeing nothing. Shaking my head at my imagination playing tricks on me, I put in the key and noticed it was already in the unlock position. It swung back easily, and this time, there was no mistaking the groan. I stilled, listened, and tried to calm my breathing. I only had a boot knife with me. I bent slowly and released it from its sheath.
A scraping and then another groan—this one weak and breathy as if someone couldn't quite catch their breath—sounded. I took the flashlight out of my back pocket and wondered if I was making the biggest mistake of my life as I clicked it on. My eyes adjusted to the sudden light and scanned the space quickly. In the corner was a figure in a dark hoodie and sweatpants that were muddy and torn.
The figure didn't shift toward my light. In fact, they seemed to grow more still, and I barely noticed their back rise with a labored, shallow breath. I kept my eye on the corner as I moved and made sure no one else was in the building, my mom’s voice echoing in my head to be mindful of my surroundings.
After making sure no one else was there, I crept up on the intruder. As I edged closer, I was struck by their small stature. A feminine hand with broken blood-stained nails curled into a fist before flattening on the cold concrete floor, a moan escaped as she turned, and I knew the moment my presence became known to her. She shrieked and jerked into the fetal position, covering her face with her hands.
“It’s okay.”
“Please,” she whispered, her voice breaking.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Please,” she begged again.
“May I touch you to help you sit up?”
Her head barely moved, and I put the knife back into my boot and put the flashlight on the floor. I’d been meaning to put electricity inside the building and cursed myself that I hadn’t yet.
I scooted to my knees and gently laid a hand on her side, and she flinched. “I’m sorry. Shit.” I ran a hand through my hair and sat on the floor beside her.
The flashlight was illuminating the side of her face. It was bruised and cut. Dried, while fresh blood dripped from her nose and the corner of her mouth.
She shivered, and I remembered I had a blanket in the saddlebag of my bike. “I’ll be back. I’m going to get a blanket for you.” I left the flashlight and went outside, grabbing my phone and calling for help. She answered on the first ring.
“What do you want?” she snapped off like she was distracted.
“I need you to come to the storage unit and don’t tell anyone. Bring some first-aid stuff and a change of clothes. Not for me.”
“Drew?”
“Please, Alex.”
“Dad’s not home, but Mom will know something’s up.”
“I need help.”
My sister sighed on the other end of the line. “I’ll be there shortly.”
“Thank you.”
I clicked off and put the phone in my pocket before grabbing the blanket and returning inside. The girl hadn’t moved since I left. Her back rose with her very shallow breathing.
I slid beside her and laid the blanket over her shaking frame. “I’ve called someone to help.”
“Don’t.” She tried to move, and I reached out, grabbing her hand. It was caked with dirt.
“I didn’t call the police. I called my sister. I need help here. You need help.”
She opened her mouth, which was swelling, but closed it with what sounded like a painful sigh. I guess she’d given up.
We’d lapsed into silence, and the cold from the concrete was seeping through my jeans. It was getting colder outside. She was shivering harder now, and I looked at my watch and wondered where the hell Alex was.
Finally, I heard a vehicle pull up and inwardly groaned when I heard two doors close instead of one. I wasn’t surprised when my mom entered first with her own flashlight.
She swept the room with it and then landed on us. Alex stepped in next, carrying a battery-powered lantern, and set it on a table. “Mom, help,” I pleaded, turning into a little boy again.
She knelt, her brow furrowed. She reached out and touched the girl’s face. “We need to warm her up. We have to get her off this floor. The temperature is dropping below freezing tonight.” I moved to my knees. My mom’s fingers started tapping on her wrist as she thought. “I think we should get her somewhere, and then we’ll clean her up. She’ll catch pneumonia in here.”
“I touched her, and it hurt her. If I pick her up…” My voice trailed off, and Mom grabbed my hand.
“It’s going to hurt her, but she’s already hurting, and we need to get her comfortable and evaluate her in a better light.” She squeezed my hand.
“Okay.”
“Listen, sweetheart,” my mom said as she moved closer and touched the girl’s shoulder. “My son is going to pick you up and get you to the truck, and we’ll take you somewhere safe.” She took a breath. “Are you being followed?” she asked softly.
“Don’t. Know,” the girl gritted out. It was barely audible.
Mom stood and stepped out of the way as I slid my hands underneath and tried to turn her without it hurting. She yelped, and I apologized. “I’m so sorry.” I finally stood with her in my arms. Her head lolled to my chest, and her eyes drifted closed.
We stepped out into the building as Alex grabbed all the lights. “Sit in the truck bed, I guess, with her, and I’ll go slow.”
“I’ll put your bike in the building,” Mom said as I climbed up to the bed and rested my back against the window. Alex covered us but didn’t quite make eye contact with me.
“Hey.”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
She looked at me then, and relief crossed her face. “You’re welcome,” she answered before climbing in on the driver’s side. She slid open the truck’s back window. “I’ll go slow.”
Mom locked the door to the building and climbed in on the passenger side. “Hold on,” she said as the truck eased backward. The girl didn’t even stir.
My worry streaked higher the closer we got to my cabin. I’d left my garage door open, and my mom’s old Jeep was there with the rear tire off. I’d gone to the storage unit to grab a toolbox I’d forgotten I’d stashed in there.
The truck rolled to a stop, and I somehow got on my knees and climbed down after Alex let down the tailgate. The slight frame in my arms didn’t even acknowledge the movement and my worry doubled. “She’s not moving,” I told my mom as Alex ran ahead and unlocked the door. That little sneak must have gotten my key and made a copy. “She’s breathing, that’s it.”
Mom frowned and climbed the stairs in front of me as we went inside.
“Is your bed made?”
“What do you think?” I answered my sister as I passed her on the way into my bedroom. At least the sheets were clean. I’d just changed them this morning. I laid her down and looked at my mom.
“Drew. We need to check her.”
“What? Oh. Yes, of course.”
“Fix some soup or something. If I can’t get a response from her, we need to call someone.”
I didn’t answer and walked away.
Something told me that she wouldn’t want anyone called.
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