I cry out as a sharp pain shoots up my leg.
Dammit.
That was bad.
Wincing, I roll to my butt and look down at my ankle. It's throbbing already, and I can see the swelling rising. That was a good twist, good enough that my stomach twists too as the pain starts getting more intense with every passing second. I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from crying and try to move my ankle, to see if I can stand. Sharp pain hits me hard, and I know I can't stand on it.
Honestly. Why?
I reach into my purse, which is now soaked from having landed on the ground, and I pull out my phone, glancing down at the screen. Should I dial Jacob? Yeah, I probably should. I can't ring the hospital and ask someone to walk two blocks to get me, that would make things even more embarrassing. Sighing, I hit his number and bring the phone to my ear, trying to stop myself from sobbing hysterically when he answers, because the pain in my foot is out of this world.
///
"Hey, sweetheart."
"Jacob," I croak. "Are you still in the city by any chance?"
"Yeah," he answers, his voice growing concerned. "What's the matter?"
"I slipped over at my car, near the hospital. I don't think I can stand up, and I don't really want to call a staff member out to help me."
"Of course. I'm probably only five minutes away from the hospital. Are you okay? Where you are?"
I wince as I try to shift so my back is pressed against the car door. "Yeah, I'm in the parking lot. Unless a mugger comes in the next five minutes, I think I'm safe."
I try to joke, but it's really a pathetic attempt. Even I don't laugh.
"Sit tight, I'm on my way."
He hangs up and I glance at the screen of the phone, noticing a couple of messages I must have missed earlier. Both are from Ace. I saved his number into my phone a few days ago, and he keeps me updated as much as possible, letting me know if he finds anything, or when he questions someone.
A: Is everything okay?
I narrow my eyes at the message. He never asks if anything is okay. Sure, he checks in on me when he comes home from work each night, but he doesn't send it over text, and he never calls. I wonder why he's asking.
H: I'm ok. I slipped outside the hospital, so I'm going to get my ankle looked at and then I'll head home.
My phone rings a few minutes later, Ace's name flashing on the screen.
"Ah, hello?" I answer, more than a little confused.
"You okay?" Ace's demanding voice comes across the phone speaker.
"Yes, I just hurt my ankle."
"Where are you?"
Um. Bossy.
"In the hospital parking lot. I'm waiting for Jacob to show up and help me back into the hospital to get it looked at."
"How did you slip?"
"Ace," I say, wincing as I shift. "You're starting to freak me out."
"I need to talk to you. Text me as soon as you know what's happening, or when you're at home. I'll come to you."
My heart twists.
That doesn't make me feel good … at all.
"Ace," I say again, my voice weary. "What's going on?"
"Are you alone in that parking lot?"
Suddenly I feel unsafe. My eyes scan around and thus far, I can't see anything or anyone. My heart pounds against my ribcage, and I don't feel okay, at all. The pain in my ankle gets seemingly worse when I think about the fact that I can't run, even if I need to.
"You're scaring me," I whisper.
"Keep me on the phone until Jacob gets there."
"Ace, seriously, what's going on?"
"I'm not going to discuss it over the phone."
His voice is gruff, and straight down the line, leaving no room for argument.
"Am I … in danger?"
"I don't know, but we need to talk. Is he there yet?"
God.
I don't feel so good.
"Not yet."
"How did you slip?"
I glance at the oil-like substance I'm now sitting in. "I think maybe my car is leaking, or someone else's car, there is something that resembles oil on the ground."
Ace goes quiet for a minute. "Is it by any other cars?"
I wasn't paying that much attention. I look over at the other empty parking spots, and they're all wet from the rain, but none of them seem to have the shine coating them like the spot I'm in does. Great. Just what I need, a leaking damned car to fix.
"No," I finally answer Ace. "I think my car is leaking."
He doesn't say anything, he just makes a strange sound in his throat.
"Hart?"
Jacob's voice calls out, and I yell back, "I'm here."