The lights, shining so brightly I could scarcely see.
The music, so loud I could barely hear my own thoughts.
A crowd of people around me, none I were familiar with.
A hand around my neck…
I woke up suddenly, sweating and shaking, still on top of the comforter that I can't remember falling asleep on. God, I needed the rest but the thoughts of the previous day were coming back to haunt me...and they'd woken me from slumber.
A shiver worked its way down the length of my spine but my body still felt frozen. Frozen with fear and apprehension, certainly not because I was cold.
I sat up abruptly when I heard a noise coming from somewhere else besides my bedroom. Did I drop off back to sleep, conjure up the noise in my sleep? My eyes drifted around the room at my familiar surroundings: the slight flutter of my curtains, the shadow on the wall from my closet, the various shades of color on the newly furnished walls…
There was definitely a noise, sounding more like a knocking this time round. I sat up and pulled my knees to under my chin, rocking for a second. There were only a few people who knew my new address, although I couldn't remember exactly how many knew. I studied a specific point on the wall as I racked my brain.
The phone call. Last night. But… he couldn't be here already, could he?
I climbed off the bed and made my way to the closet, pulling free the first sweater I saw. It was on my upper body in a swift move and I pulled open the bedroom door.
The knocking came again, this time I realized it was from the apartment door. At this point, I was fucking thankful for the peep hole that would allow me to see who was outside, before I let them in. If I let them in.
I stood on tiptoe- trust a freakin' peep hole to make me feel short- and closed one eye to get a close look at my guest. A shaky breath escaped my lungs as I realized it was him.
Him. Jay. Of course it was him.
But how could he be here already? What time did I make the call?
I swallowed, an unexpected lump lodging itself in my throat. I knew he would come if I called him, what had I been thinking?
The last time I'd seen Jay, we'd said goodbye. And I was fairly fucking sure that my heart was still in a million shards because of it.
I pressed my forehead against the cold hardness of the door. I didn't know what on earth to lead the conversation with but it was gonna have to be something. I opened the door in one swift movement.
His hand was paused in mid-air, as if he was going to attempt knocking again. I found myself looking down at his shoes before I could even contemplate making eye contact.
There was a small holdall accompanying his feet on the ground. It certainly looked like he'd packed in a hurry.
Of course he packed in a freakin' hurry, Erin. You only called a few hours ago.
He had on grey slacks and a black jacket, a navy baseball cap covering his brow. My eyes worked up their courage to look at him.
Oh God just seeing him again made my heart ache in a way I'd only ever felt once before.
And, just like the last time we'd seen each other, there was a way we could communicate without words. I pulled at the cuffs of my sweater so they were beyond where my hands were. I stepped further into the apartment, an invitation for him to come through the threshold.
I couldn't remember giving him my address, but I must have. Either that, or Voight had told him.
Jay picked up his belongings and half-stumbled into my hallway. He brushed past me, dangerously close, the particular aroma of his cologne taking me by pleasant surprise.
No sooner was he in the apartment than I heard the thud of his holdall hitting the carpet and suddenly I was pressed hard against the cold wall. I barely had a second to register his body pushed against my chest before his soft lips were together with my own.
Though it was barely a few seconds, there was something about the connection that electrified my insides. I felt his weight back away suddenly, before my body responded.
"I'm sorry," his first words were a whisper. "I shouldn't have done that."
The look on his face told me different. I watched as his eyes surveyed the area of my apartment and he reached for my hand, guiding me through to what he'd figured out was the lounge.
I mouthed a response to him, doubtful he'd heard. I allowed myself to be tugged along by him and collapsed onto my couch when I reached it.
Jay sat slowly beside me, and I noticed he didn't seem to be in a hurry to drop my hand. His attention seemed to turn to my face.
"Are you alright?" the most sincere look on his face. "Your face.." his mouth shut abruptly, but I knew what he was getting at. My attempt to clear up my face from scars and scratches, residues of make-up too, hadn't done anything to make me look better.
Unsure if it was seeing him again, why I'd called him or what was about to happen, I burst into tears. Both of my hands rushed to my face before I realized- he's seen me cry before. One of the only few people who has.
I nodded, bit down on my lower lip, then eventually shook my head. After all, he'd know if I was lying.
"Tell me," he spoke softly, in the familiar reassuring tone that he'd used on me before.
The shaking of my head was a constant, what could I even say to him anyway? Yeah hi, ex love of my life, I think I've killed a man. I gulped at the thought.
His hand moved to hover over my kneecap for a few seconds before he placed his palm gently on the material of my sweats. A simple move- but one that told me he wasn't planning on going anywhere.
"Erin," the lithe way my name rolled from his tongue hadn't changed, no matter how long I hadn't heard it for. "Tell me," he repeated.
I tore my eyes away from the floor to look at him, half wishing I hadn't. The way he was looking at me was gonna cause the truth to slip straight out of my mouth.
And it did. I gulped shaky breaths in between telling him from the beginning: waking up in a stranger's place yesterday morning, the stiffness of the male body next to me, the…
I watched his frozen face as I got up from the couch to retrieve the souvenir I'd taken from the stranger's place: the grainy photograph of me half-clothed with my name and a time slot underneath. I pushed this towards Jay, his somewhat natural facial expression turning into an unsure frown, the creases in his forehead bringing his eyebrows together.
He gripped the photograph between both hands and I sunk back into the couch. He didn't need to say anything for me to know what he was thinking: what the fuck?
"…then I ran away. I literally ran away because I didn't," the words were just falling out of my mouth in a mess, and I was surprised he actually understood the garbage I was talking. ".. I couldn't stay there, I didn't know what else to do."
Jay's attention turned to me again when I'd finished talking. "Hey," that voice of his was so reassuring, even given I may have just confessed to murder, one that I couldn't remember. "Have you told anybody else?"
I shook my head, gulped. "You were the first person I thought to call," I shrugged.
He laughed then, a small chuckle that was fairly inappropriate given what we were discussing. "I guess that should feel like an honor," he replied. "Especially when we don't work together any more."
His response tore at something inside me. We don't work together any more. Not: 'we don't live together anymore' or 'we're not together anymore' or even 'we're not in the same city anymore'.
But he didn't seem to notice my reaction. Instead, his attention turned back to study the evidence I'd brought from that place yesterday. It might have just been his Adam's apple at a weird angle, or there was a lump in his throat.
"Did he," Jay started, his eyes dropping quickly to the floor. "Did he hurt you?"
"I'm not sure," I said truthfully, and he probably thought I was stupid. But I didn't know for sure: there was a dull ache all over my body but it could be from the bed I'd been sleeping on. From whatever went down the night before.
Or from trying to put up a fight? Had he been trying to hurt me and my self-defence had kicked in?
Without realizing, I'd brought a hand up to my face and now I bit down on the nail of my thumb.
"I don't know," I reiterated.
As I looked down, I noticed Jay's hand curl into a fist and he pounded it silently on the material of his jeans. I guess he'd asked the question, but didn't really wanna hear the answer.
He sat forward on the couch, his elbows resting on the upper part of his legs. "And he was definitely dead when you left him?"
I nodded, but he was staring into blank space so I had to verbalize. "He wasn't breathing."
My answer registered with him and he got up, walking the length of the lounge in my new apartment. Half of the size of the one we shared together, so he reached the other end in five of his large strides. His arms folded in a posture across his chest, the muscles he'd obviously been working on peeking out from underneath the sleeves of his T-shirt.
"You need to get checked out," he said through gritted teeth, still pacing and leaving sneaker indents in the carpet. I watched his movements. "Because then you could claim self-defence.."
He was thinking like a police officer. He was thinking logically. What he suggested made sense. But I couldn't think of anything worse than somebody else examining me, probing me, asking me all sorts of questions I didn't want to answer.
"But of course, you won't do that," he continued, raising a hand to his temple and massaging the area above his ear. His answer told me how much he knew me, even though we hadn't spoken in so long. His answer told me what I'd recounted to him didn't affect what he thought of me.
Because that was the kind of guy Jay Halstead was. A police officer, a protector, a confidant. And seeing him again wasn't helping the feelings I'd spent so fucking long pretending didn't exist.
Jay came to a standstill at the doorframe that led into the kitchen, leading with one hand on the wood. "Then if what you're saying is true, you realize I'm gonna have to check it out, right?"
I gulped, though I knew it was coming. Returning to the scene of the crime was the right thing to do, there could be something I'd missed: a clue, as to what the hell went down there two nights ago. Still, that didn't make the prospect of returning there any easier, and I felt my heart thumping and hammering in my chest.
"I know," I uttered, walking slowly across the area of the lounge. My stomach did a few somersaults as I walked past where Jay was standing. I felt his eyes burning into the back of my mind as I walked into my bedroom to find sneakers and a jacket.
"What were you wearing?" His voice came from behind me as I searched through my closet. I turned slowly to find Jay's eyes taking a tour of what was my new bedroom. I didn't miss that he paid particular attention to the bed, his eyes going in circles around my comforter.
"I put them… in the laundry basket," I shrugged, throwing the first hooded sweatshirt I found over me.
He frowned, but looked intensely at me. "You brought that with you to New York?" his eyes widened in surprise.
Then I looked down. Jay's college sweatshirt with the familiar logo across the chest.
I must have packed it subconsciously, it having been in my closet in Chicago. I wrapped my arms around myself. "Yeah I guess I did," I shrugged. "If it's weird that I still have it-"
Jay leaned against the doorframe, crossing a foot in front of the other. "It's cool with me," he shrugged too. "Besides, you look better in it than I do."
I felt my face grow three shades darker, not used to taking compliments at the best of times but from him they always meant something extra.
"We should go," I broke the silence that had occurred between us.
"You remember how to get there?" He waited for me to leave the room and shut the door behind me.
Could I? A wash of uncertainty overcame me as I remembered the surge of adrenaline I'd used to race home. The lengthy strides I'd forced my legs to perform to get me away from that place.
"I think so," I reassured myself, hoping something in the scenery or whatever would trigger something along the way. But I'd done the last trip on foot, did that mean-
"I picked up a car from the airport," Jay said, turning to see if I was following him out of the apartment door. He closed that door too behind us, his hand hovering over the small of my back but not quite touching. "I figured, the way you called me, the urgency in your voice, maybe you wouldn't be up to driving."
His assumption proved accurate. In the passenger seat of his rental, I couldn't stop the up and down shakiness of my legs as they jumped involuntarily against where I was seated.
Jay's right hand moved from his own lap to mine, the small movement an attempt to reassure me that it was okay. Or it was gonna be okay. Which is what his face seemed to tell me.
One of my own hands rested atop his. Just slightly, it's not like I tried to link our fingers together or anything. Just a bid to let him know I was thankful he did so.
"Take a right here," I tried, with difficulty, to focus my attention back on what lay ahead.
Jay's hand slipped away to turn the steering wheel.
The familiar tops of the trees, and the clearing, that I'd ran through yesterday. We'd come closer in less time than I thought it would take. How did it feel like I'd ran for an eternity when this place, it had taken us less than 20 minutes to get there by car.
"This is it?" he asks, and I can feel him studying my face intensely. The sharp scratches on my skin. The deep purple that was probably beginning to form under one eye. Fuck, I'm actually surprised he hasn't asked more questions.
"Erin, is this it?" he repeats himself when I don't answer. I forgot about the way he thinks: logically, like he's got to have an answer straight away.
"Yes," I can recall the place even though I was terrified the last time I'd seen these trees. Ran from that place-
Now it looks nothing more like a shed, well-hidden and back from the road, a sort of mini forest disguising it from view. It doesn't look any bigger than an outhouse.
Who am I kidding though? It's not the outside I've gotta be afraid of, it's the monstrosity inside: the dead guy, the creepy apartment room, the area I found my photograph.
Jay kills the engine and the familiar sound of him unclipping a seatbelt fills my ears. I can't turn towards him though, my eyes fixated on the building in front of me. Even before I'm out of the car, I can feel bile rising up at the back of my throat. It must be the context: shit, I practically work with dead bodies.
Not ones I've killed myself though.
Before it's registered in my brain, I'm out of the car and Jay has a firm grip of my hand. I'm pretty fucking sure he can also feel the sweat that seems to be dripping from every inch of my body.
"Do you wanna wait here?" he offers, although his voice sounds like it's a million miles away.
No. No I don't want that. That would be the only thing worse: standing out here, alone.
I shake my head firmly and he almost drags me to the entrance. My legs are heavy, as if they can sense where I'm directing them. But Jay isn't letting up: he's walking so fast towards the entrance and it's almost as though he wants to get into the scene of the crime.
"Wait!" I screamed.
"What is it?" he says, before he even turns around. Then he does, and there's a mixture of concern and apprehension on his face. Okay, that came out louder than I thought.
I pointed a finger to what I knew was the entrance. "I shut that," my voice was trembling, even though I willed it not to. "The door," this time, he turned in the direction I was pointing. "I ran away from here, but I shut that. I know it."
He knew what I was getting at: the door was slightly ajar. And he knew better than to argue with me, especially when I'm like this. Weird. On edge. Scared.
I watched as he bent to his holster, taking out the gun he always carried with him. Gripping it tight in his other hand, watching our step as we continued towards the door. He pushed it and it gave a creak.
No movement and no sound. Then again, I didn't know what I was expecting. There was a dead man inside.
"Which way?" Jay whispered, still taking the lead as I fell behind his footfall. "Where is he?"
My eyes darted left and right, studying the walls, until they fell on the open door at the very back of the apartment. The bathroom, where I'd first seen the mess on my face. If that was the bathroom then-
"This one," I led the way, this time. A course of adrenaline pumped its way through my entire body. For I knew what was in there.
I'm first in the room. And it's nothing like the room I left yesterday. I gulped.
There's the thing I described as a bed, what I'd woken up on, what had caused the ache in my back. And there's elements I remember about the room: the broken blinds, the walls that were painted the same color as the door so it was almost impossible to get out if you were trapped.
And there was blood. A hell of a lot of blood.
But no body.
I'm lucky Jay still has a grip on me because I feel my legs buckle and he reaches quickly to grab me, steady my weight.
There's no body. But it's pretty obvious this has been a crime scene.
"He was…here," I choke, pointing towards the now-empty bed. Wherever the body has gone, it's clear there was a body there. The mattress is indented: a deep shape that has sunken part of it. Not that you could see that of course, beneath the complete sheet of dried red. Blood.
"You woke up...here?" he queries, his eyes are startlingly wide as he takes in the scene before him. "Where is he?" But he doesn't wait for an answer. Sensing I've found the ability to stand again, he moves away from me and I can hear him checking other rooms.
I'm glued to the spot, unable to move. It's a few minutes before I hear him call out.
"Erin?" he's at the other side of the apartment. I follow the sound of his voice, it's coming from an opposite room.
He's in the room where I found my photograph, and now that the room is light, I can see more features of it. Apparently I wasn't the only attraction: the wall is covered in photographs, there's more of me but there's other girls too.
"Do you know them?" he questions. He's standing so close I think I can feel his breath, hot and sticky.
I shake my head in response, narrowing my eyes to see if the pictures become clearer. They don't though and I was right, I haven't seen these other women before.
Without saying anything else, Jay tears down my pictures first then the rest.
He studies them, the most decent one though so he doesn't look pervy. "How did he get these?" The question is said under his breath so I'm unsure if he's directing it at me or he's asking himself. Trying to figure out what the hell is going on.
Then it's like something changes in him. He's crumpled the photos in half and is pulling me from the room. I let him.
It's only when we're sitting in his car, and he's locked the doors, that he gets them out again and smooths out the one of me over his steering wheel.
His finger jabs at not me, but the surroundings. "Isn't this your apartment?"
I gulp before I've even looked. But there it is: it's me through the window of my New York apartment. It's taken at an obscure angle but now Jay's said it and I know he's right.
And he was in my apartment for all of 40 minutes before we left, even he's able to recognize the bay window and grey wallpaper that I haven't even touched yet. That's from the last tenants; whoever was living in there before me.
"Whoever this is, he knows where you live."
He's stating the obvious, but it hits home more than I thought. I chew on my bottom lip.
"But he's dead," I reassure myself.
"Erin, there was no body in that apartment," he reminds me.
"No, he was definitely dead when I left!" I'm startled to be shouting at him, but I can't have him not believing me. "He wasn't breathing," I say, gentler this time, more than a whisper.
I can tell he wants to answer, something like so he just disappeared? But he doesn't and I know it's for my benefit.
"So somebody else knew about this, and they've moved the body," he's back to thinking like a police officer. If he ever stopped…
There's nothing I can do except agree. There isn't another explanation.
I stare out of the window as he drives the route back to my apartment, a million thought swirling around in my mind. On top of them all though is the one that tells me I'm so thankful he's here right now. Because how was I supposed to do this alone?
"Erin?" his voice is quiet I almost don't hear it over the hum of the engine. "What are you going to do?"
And that's the question of the century, isn't it? Because I'm not sure if he's referring to the incidents of today or about my job or what. But I get the impression he's gonna be there to help with the next move.
We're back at my apartment block before I've voiced an answer. He waits by the door as I fumble in my pocket for keys and thrust my weight against the main door. He does the same when I get to the third floor, the one that leads to where I live now.
It's Jay that notices a rustling on the carpet inside. I'm into the lounge when he walks in behind me, holding a white sheet, his face practically the same color.
"What is it?" I wanna know.
There's an eerie quiet into which he gulps and his hand meets mine so I take whatever it is from his grip. Only when I look myself do I join in with his look of horror.
Almost nothing on there. Nothing apart from ten words:
I KNOW WHAT YOU DID. I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE.
And they'd added both of my names in an odd scrawl, how sweet of them. That makes it more personal.
Show me this piece of paper, I'd deem it a prank and throw it in the trash. But given where I woke up yesterday, what I did yesterday and where I had to go back to today I figured this wasn't just a stupid joke. I'm still looking down at the page, the words blurring my vision because I'm staring so hard, when Jay speaks up.
"Pack a bag," I get the sense it's almost like an order. But I know what he's getting at. If this is anything to do with what happened, and I'm betting everything that it is, I can't stay in my apartment.
I'm nodding and he follows me to my bedroom. He leans against the doorframe while I search the closet for a holdall. It's similar to the one he brought himself and we'd used them together for vacation, hadn't we?
I wonder how long he'd been planning on staying. Well, we wouldn't be staying here now anyway…
I also wonder if he feels uncomfortable now as he watches me rooting through my drawers of clothes and underwear to pack in a hurry. There isn't anything else I wear much of outside of work than sweatshirts and yoga pants. Sweatshirts that probably once belonged to him. I think about it for a second and decide it's probably best to take clothes that belong to me. Is it weird that your ex wears your clothes?
I haven't the faintest idea on where he's planning to go, but it seems he has more of an idea than I do. I rush into the bathroom to pick up any essentials before shoving them in the holdall with my clothes. He's still keeping an eye on me while I zip up the contents, unplug a phone charger and shut the door behind us.
"Is there any friends you could crash with?" Jay asks, and it's then I realize maybe he had second thoughts. Of course he doesn't want to be dragged down in this mess.
But there isn't anywhere I could go, is there? It's barely been three months since I moved to New York, and the apartment that's mine was one of the first I set eyes on. The location and size were good for what I needed, even better for what I was paying.
He'd object though if I had wanted to stay. But it's saying something when I don't want to stay in my own place. It would have to be a hotel, just for a few nights. Then I'd have to decide long-term.
I shrug in response to his question, I'm not 'friendly' enough with anybody in this state yet to be able to crash at their place. Maybe for a night, I guess, but even the thought of calling my boss or a partner asking to stay makes me feel uncomfortable.
I'm about to vocally respond, suggest a hotel is my best option when Jay seemed to have had a thought.
"My sister lives in New York," he suddenly comes out with, and that's enough to make me feel on edge again. I'd forgotten there were more Halstead's in the world, my world used to revolve around only one.
Jay had mentioned his sister, Maya, before but we'd never met. In the beginning, I thought he wanted to keep our relationship separate from his family but he eventually told me it wasn't that at all.
My family are judgemental, Erin. It's better if we wait a while before you meet them.
And a while it had been. We'd been dating for over a year before I heard anything else about his family. But I'd never been given the opportunity to be in the same state as them, let alone the same room.
I shook my head. "You can't drag your family into this," I was adamant.
"I wouldn't be," he counteracted. "I could spill her a lie about us having vacation time and that's why we're up here."
I stared at him. "And she wouldn't think that was weird? We're up here together but we're not together?"
Jay's intake of breath was so loud it was the only thing I heard. "She doesn't know," he shrugged. "I haven't told her yet."
My turn to gulp. "Still," I protested. "We can't just turn up at her place expecting to stay."
He thought for a second. "Then we book into a hotel tonight. I'll call her in the morning."
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