The Other Game (The Perfect Game 4)
Blink. Pain.
Blink. Pain.
Blink. Pain.
Dazed, I had the feeling of being dragged along, my feet scraping against the concrete like they no longer worked. It almost felt like I was floating, but the pain that followed felt nothing like floating. It felt like hell.
When I opened my eyes, I realized that I was in someone’s arms. I glanced to my left, my head feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds, to find Brett practically carrying me across campus, his arm looped underneath mine.
I recognized where we were. “Hey,” I croaked out, and he slowed down.
“Thank God. Are you okay?” He glanced at me, his eyes wide and worried.
“My head hurts like hell.” I reached up and pulled my hand away, surprised to see blood wetting my fingertips.
“It was worse before. It’s actually almost stopped,” he said, and I assumed he was referring to the blood.
It was then when I noticed his shirt was stained red down the front. I pointed at it.
“Mine?”
“Yours.” He nodded, pulling the fabric away from his body before letting it go.
“What the hell did he hit me with, anyway?”
“A forty-ounce bottle of beer,” he answered, shaking his head at the memory.
No wonder my head hurts so damn bad.
“Where are we going?”
“To the campus police station,” he said, and it all came back to me in a rush of pain and fury.
“Where’s Cassie? Is she okay? What the fuck, Brett? Where is she? Where’s Cassie?”
I tried to pull out of his grip, desperate to find Jack’s girl, but I was too unsteady. My vision was still a little blurry, and my head pounded with each beat of my heart.
“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug.
That answer couldn’t have been more wrong. I shoved at him, trying to push him off me.
“You don’t know? We have to go back!” I shouted. “We have to fucking go back and get her!”
“Dean?”
I thought I heard Jack’s voice coming from somewhere so I called his name out, although not very loudly in case I was hearing things.
“Dean!”
A figure in the distance sprinted toward us. When he got closer, I could see Jack’s face looked horrified and confused.
“What happened?” he demanded. “Why are you so bloody? Are you okay?”
Jack reached for me, patting me over to see where I’d gotten hurt as he looked around, frantic. Then he froze and said, “Wait. Where’s Cassie?”
I looked into his eyes, terrified that I’d let him down and he’d never forgive me.
“Where’s Cassie, Dean?