HAPPY FRIDAY!


Jac

Jac lay semi-conscious on the floor in front of Yates' son. His footsteps thundered on the dark wood, pacing up and down near the door. She heard Connie shouting through the door, the girl needed surgery. She knew she needed to stay awake, heard Connie telling her patient that and even though those words were not directed to her, she focussed on them and forced her eyes to stay open.

The room swam in and out of focus and Jac wasn't entirely sure what she was seeing. She felt her leg throbbing where he had cut her, each breath was painful to take where he had kicked her and her head hurt from being thrown around. Thinking like the consultant she was, she guessed that her ribs were bruised (possibly broken) and her leg was going to need stitches. She wasn't worried about blood loss though, because if the femoral artery had been cut, she would have bled out within a minute.

'What's going on? Rihanna? What the hell is going on out there?' Mark Yates called out, banging on the door as he did so.

Connie didn't reply. Jac panicked as her attacker unlocked the door and placed his hand on the handle. If Connie had run to get help, finally, or someone else was out there, they needed time and that was one thing that Jac could give them.

'Wait,' she said with great effort, 'I'm sorry about your father.'

It was as though she had flicked a switch. He snapped from being concerned about whoever he had left in Connie's care, (his daughter? His wife? Jac shuddered at the thought of either.) to looking murderous.

'How dare you! You're not sorry, you lived at that care home, you saw what he did to the other girls there.'

'Yes, I did. But I didn't say I was sorry that he died. If you had let me finish, I would have said that I was sorry that he was your father. He was a disgusting, sick man and I wish I could have seen the life leave his eyes as he died, on my operating table, under my care.'

Jac looked him hard in the eye as she said this; she didn't blink as she insulted the memory of his father, the bane of everyone's life in that miserable place. She knew how stupid she was being. Perhaps Connie had run off, saved herself? If no one was coming to help her, then this was a huge mistake. There was no way that he'd let that go, in fairness, Jac wouldn't have let that go either.

She didn't move as he crouched down to her, brought out the knife, and gently ran it along the top of her left arm. She felt the cool metal run down to her wrist, where he took it away.

'At least I'll get to see the life leave yours,' he snarled as he brought the knife up beyond his shoulder and stabbed her chest. She cried out as the knife stabbed her chest on the left, just above her heart. He sank it in as far as the blade would go: then the knife came down again, this time in the middle of her chest. Well, now she was worried about blood loss.

As he brought the knife up for the third time, the door flew open.

'GET OFF OF HER!' a familiar voice shouted. A blurred figure hurtled towards the man on top of her, grabbed his right arm (which held the knife) and rugby tackled him. They fell to the ground.

'Jac. Jac are you ok?' Connie ran to Jac's side and held her hand, squeezing it tightly. Her entire body ached and she closed her eyes. She nodded sleepily.

'No no no, come on Jac, I need you to stay awake. Stay with me Jac, please. I need you to open your eyes for me. Come on Jac.'

For a minute, she did try. She opened her eyes and saw Connie to her left, Mark and whoever had saved her to her right.

'It's ok,' Jac whispered softly. Connie shook her head, tears in her eyes

'Do what Connie says, Jac. Stay with us, ok?' It was Kian. She finally felt safe and allowed herself to give in to exhaustion and pain. Her hand went limp in Connie's, and she closed her eyes and relaxed her breathing, finally falling into a deep sleep.