CHAPTER NINE
I decided to actually freshen up while I was still in the bathroom. Kissing Jared had caused a slight sheen of sweat on my forehead, which I promptly dabbed away with a paper towel, but nothing I could do in here would help me get past the well of emotions the kiss had tapped into and brought to the surface.
It wasn’t that I hadn’t wanted him to kiss him; of course I had. I just hadn’t expected it to happen so suddenly, so quickly, and for it to be so powerful. The truth was, I now felt as though the passionate kiss we shared back at my place had happened only yesterday—a kiss which may have led to more if I had only let it. I didn’t know what the hell to do with those feelings.
Bury them? Dismiss them? Mull them over?
Maybe Jared was right; maybe I was overthinking, and all I had to do was go back and talk to him. Dance with him. Maybe have another drink with him… maybe kiss him some more. It sounded like such a simple idea, so why couldn’t I just walk up to that bathroom door and head back into the main room?
The answer to the question eluded me, but my five minutes were almost over, and unless I wanted to screw everything up, I had to get out there, find Jared, and talk to him at least. I had to find out what this meant and where it was going. But the moment I turned my neck to face the bathroom door, a sharp pain struck the side of my head.
I shut my eyes, gritted my teeth, and bowed my head as a burning needle-like pain tore through my brain. When I opened my eyes again and stared into the bottom of the sink, I saw little droplets of blood beginning to drip, pool, and drain against the white ceramic. I drew a finger across my nose and it came back red. When I checked myself out in the mirror, the blood dripping out of my right nostril was impossible to ignore.
I scrambled for more paper towels, trying to staunch the bleeding as best I could, but the pain assaulting the side of my head was causing me to shake, was blurring my vision, and making it difficult for me to think. Then I heard a prominent click coming from the bathroom door. At first, I thought someone had come inside, but the door was closed and the bathroom was empty.
I marched toward it, with a ball of paper towels pressed against my nose, and tried the door, but it wouldn’t open. I tried it again, this time more forcefully, but the door wouldn’t budge. The latch on the inside hadn’t been drawn, but the door itself had been locked. The pain in the side of my head pulsed stronger. I squeezed my eyes shut tight and backed into a wall, holding my head with one hand and my nose with the other. The whole room was spinning now, and my ears had started to ring, but I was locked in here and I had to get out.
Stretching my right arm in front of myself and opening my palm, I bid magick to come forth from within me and turn the locking mechanism on the door, but nothing happened. I breathed in short, quick breaths and tried again, but the lock wouldn’t turn. What was worse, I didn’t think the magick was even manifesting. It was like whenever I reached for my power, I was met with pins and needles. Static.
I grabbed my phone from my purse, dropping the ball of bloody paper towels on the floor and quickly dialled Nicole’s number. As I waited for her to answer, more crimson droplets fell from my nose, striking the white tiles at my feet. The nose bleed was relentless, as were the pain and the static. When Nicole didn’t answer, the cold hand of dread caressed my back, causing me to shiver all over.
Something wasn’t right about this.
I began to look for Jared’s number when my search was cut short by a chorus of ear piercing screams coming from outside. The sound woke me up from whatever trance the pain had put me in, and I shot bolt upright, my phone tightly gripped in my hand and my knuckles whitening. Whoever had screamed, the sound had ripped through the hallway like a flash fire and set my nerves alight.
Carefully, cautiously, I approached the door to try and make better sense of what had happened. Maybe I had imagined it, a side effect of the pain, but it sounded like chaos erupted on the other side of the bathroom door. People were screaming, glass was shattering, and footsteps were pounding on the floor as if a stampede of wildebeests was passing right outside.
I dashed at the door now and threw my fists at it, banging frantically for anyone on the other side to hear me and open it, but there was too much noise—too many people screaming and fleeing from whatever was going on.
“Nicole!” I yelled, “Jared! Can anyone hear me!” But my voice wasn’t being heard. It was one splash in a turbulent river, drowned out by the rushing rapids. It was up to me to get out of here on my own.
I pressed my palm against the door and tried with all my willpower to bring magick surging out of me, magick strong enough to crush the door to splinters, but that only made the pain in my brain worse, forcing me to let go of the door, panting and clutching my head. Magick wouldn’t work, that much was clear.
When I felt like I could open my eyes again, I scanned the bathroom for another way out and saw a high window on the other side of the room. I rushed toward it, but I had to get on the tips of my toes just to reach the ledge. Even if I did reach it, the window was tiny. Getting through it would be difficult, and the risk of getting stuck was high. But what choice did I have? The only other way out was through the bathroom door, and I would have to break it down—or maybe just break the lock.
I made a dash for the toilet and lifted the tank cover. The heavy, ceramic plate felt good in my hands—felt like freedom—and I brought it up and over my shoulder as I went over to the bathroom door. Carefully, though my heart hammered inside my chest, I lined the swing as best I could and brought the tank cover down on the handle as hard as I could.
The force of the blow rattled my teeth, and the impact had taken a chip out of the ceramic, but the door handle remained. I tried again, grunting this time as the cover came down on the handle, but I missed and hit the door instead, cracking the wood but not enough that I thought I would be able to beat my way through it to the other side.
Again, I lined up my attack, this time turning the tank cover around so its underside faced the handle. I gripped the cover with both hands, screamed, and brought it crashing down on the brass handle. The crash vibrated through me at the moment of impact, and the other end of the tank cover smashed to pieces, but the door handle had come clean off.
I set the tank cover down, rushed toward the door, and charged through it with my shoulder. The broken lock gave, and the door opened, letting me spill into the corridor where the sounds of screams, and struggling, and suffering, hit me in full force.