The killer was inside the house. Rick placed his hands on Cameron’s bloody face and tried to comfort him.
“Are you okay?” he asked, caressing Cameron’s cheeks.
“N-no, I need h-help,” Cameron mumbled.
“Of course, but first, I need to get that freak. They’re in the basement,” Rick stated.
“Rick-” Cameron tried to shout but couldn’t from the blood choking his voice.
Rick ran downstairs, grabbed an old fire poker from the bottom of the steps and readied himself for a confrontation.
“I got you now, you psycho! Come out and face me!” he said with gritted teeth.
Rick walked past the line of boxes on the wall. He regretted having so many at the moment since it blocked his vision on the next turn. He lowered himself at the end of the path of boxes and tried to peek at the next turn.
From what he could see, the chair the killer had Cameron tied up in was still there. Cameron’s blood stained the floor in red slashes and drops. Rick assumed the killer was waiting for him to pounce and that they wouldn’t move until he moved.
He thought about what weapon they would have on them. An alphabet block to continue the pattern of murders? A Colt .45 pistol like Father Destiny used on the show? Whatever it was, Rick didn’t have time to contemplate anymore.
He leapt out of the path and stabbed the air with the fire poker. Rick blinked as he realized that he didn’t actually stab anyone. It was a familiar feeling but never felt quite like this. He scanned the area and carefully checked behind the final tower of boxes that were still lining the wall. The killer was nowhere to be found.
A warm glow of light rubbed his neck, causing him to turn around and realize how the killer left. The window was wide open and greeted Rick to a feeling of disappointment and annoyance. Rick ran back up the stairs, dropped the fire poker by the basement door and returned to Cameron. He looked pale and his eyes were fighting to stay awake.
“I got you, honey, we’re going to a hospital right now,” Rick said.
He carried Cameron all the way to his car and opened the back seat door for him. He made sure to comfortably lay him out on the seats and slammed the door. Rick opened the door to the driver’s seat and got the car moving. His knuckles burned red as his eyes kept playing hot potato with the road and Cameron’s body. The hospital wasn’t too far from where they lived. He was sure Cameron was going to make it.
Nothing but white noise and the sound of his heartbeat was heard through Rick’s ears. He kept repeating to himself that Cameron would be okay and that he would make it before he would die. Sometimes, he would prevent himself from saying that word. Finally, his eyes caught the giant red cross that hung above the words “EMERGENCY” and merged to turn left where those words were located. He parked at the emergency parking lot, grabbed Cameron’s body and shoved the door open with his back.
“Help! Someone help! My husband needs help!” Rick shouted.
The people in the waiting room line gawked seeing Rick clinging onto Cameron’s blood-soaked body. A group of three doctors rushed in, grabbed a stretcher and ripped Cameron out of Rick’s arms. Rick tried to trail behind them, but one of the doctors instructed Rick to stay back and sit in the waiting area. Rick reluctantly listened and stood solemnly behind the emergency doors.
“What have I done?” Rick asked himself.
He slowly walked into the waiting area and took a seat. He examined the encrusted blood on his hands as tears began to race down his cheeks. He scratched at his hair anxiously and kept trying to relax. His teary eyes slowly began to clear up. Everyone in the waiting room was staring at him. He felt frightened by all of these eyes digging into him. It was as if they were all pointing at him, pointing at Cameron’s body and chanting, “It’s all your fault.”
Rick left the room and walked into the bathroom. He locked the door and started to thoroughly wash his hands. He washed his face and looked at himself in the mirror to see a face he could no longer recognize as the man he wished he still was.
To be continued…