Guilt

Matt pulled his phone out of his back pocket and flipped it open. No new messages. No missed calls. He glanced at the time before closing his phone again and sliding it back out of view.

Julianne hadn’t contacted him at all that day. He thought maybe he accidentally missed her call or something, but that wasn’t the case since there weren’t any new messages or missed calls. His fingers itched to call her, but he’d been treading lightly around Julianne lately. Ever since that one amazing night together, Matt had noticed that Julianne seemed a little more on edge. He didn’t want to upset her by bugging her, so he just clenched his hand into a fist and looked back up at the television.

GET TO JULIANNE NOW!

A frantic voice exploded inside Matt’s head. He jerked involuntarily, glancing quickly around the room. Where the hell did the voice come from?

Slowly, the shock of a random voice screaming in Matt’s head wore off. The bodiless words began to sink into Matt’s brain. Without further questions, Matt turned the television off and grabbed his keys and wallet from the coffee table. He hadn’t a clue where the voice came from, but he knew he couldn’t ignore it either. He hadn’t missed the urgency in the voice: Julianne was in trouble, and that was all that really mattered.

Matt got to Julianne’s house in record time. He shoved the car into park but left it running as he sprang from the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut. He headed towards Julianne’s front door. The door swung eagerly open before Matt even reached it, and Matt took all three front steps in one leap before bounding into the living room like some superhero from a comic book.

“Upstairs bathroom! Hurry!”

Now, the voice came not from within Matt’s head but from the walls of Julianne’s house. It came from everywhere at once. Again, Matt didn’t question its origin and simply leaped up the stairs, taking the steps three at a time.

The bathroom door popped open much like the front door: before Matt even reached it. He would need therapy after this. But Matt ignored this thought and barged into the bathroom. He drew back from the evil sight before him for only a millisecond.

Julianne sat in a pool of her own blood. The blood hadn’t yet reached the drain. Matt didn’t even want to think about how much blood she’d lost. A knife lay submerged in the thick red liquid. Matt got over his shock quickly and stepped forward to pull Julianne from what could’ve been her grave, had it not been for that disembodied voice.

Julianne’s face was turned towards Matt as he kneeled beside the tub. The arm opposite him was still seeping out blood; the gash looked deep. Matt glanced up at Julianne’s face as he pulled her undamaged arm around his shoulder. Her eyelids were half-closed; he could see only a faint glimmer of her chocolate brown irises.

Matt pulled Julianne gently away from the back of the bathtub enough so that he could snake an arm behind her back. He reached into the tub, grimacing as he shoved his arm into her blood to hook an arm underneath her knees. He straightened, easily lifting her limp form from the bathtub. Her blood stained his shirt wherever it touched. She dripped blood onto the floor as he turned her away from the tub and placed her gently on the floor with her back leaning against the sink counter. He tied a towel tightly around her elbow in a feeble attempt to stem the blood flow.

Her lips quivered, and then Julianne spoke, “I’m sorry.” Her voice was barely loud enough for Matt to hear her. She sounded lifeless. If she’d been left alone a few more minutes, she would be lifeless.

“It’s okay, shh,” Matt said hastily, pressing a kiss to her ice cold forehead. He pulled his phone from his back pocket and decided not to think as he dialed in 911. It was easier not to think.