Ruin (Rhodes #1) by Rina Kent

                             “Mae?” I call, heading to the bathroom. Each step is heavier than the precedent. I learnt to always trust my intuition, and right now, a terrible one is clouding my mind.

                             Cold sweat covers my hand when I turn the doorknob. “Mae, are you—”

                             I freeze at the doorway. There’s no oxygen in the room. No matter how many gulps of air I take, I still can’t breathe.

                             A pool of blood.

                             Mae’s blood. And she’s inside it. One hand with a bloodied piece of glass on the edge of the bathtub. Her head grotesquely lolled to her shoulder. Eyes closed, her overly pale skin is surrounded by the oxygenated red from every side.

                             No, please NO!

                             I run to her, stumbling a few times. I crouch by the bathtub, my hands flat out shaking.

                             “Mae!” I slap her, but she shows no sign of consciousness. The water is too red. It’s the artery. Damn! My hands plunge in the water searching for her wrist. When I get it out, I don’t have to look at it, hypothermia in Mae’s skin takes over my attention. Is she nearing shock already?

                             “She saved us the trouble,” Aunt says from behind me.

                             “FUCK OFF!”

                             Get your shit together, Aaron. Mae needs your help.

                             I breathe in and out. Trauma case. Slit wrist. Go. I press my fingers to Mae’s neck. I only need a pulse. A tiny sign of life.

                             Mae isn’t dead. She can’t be.

                             My fingers tremble on Mae’s cold skin. My frantic heartbeat is so loud in my ears, I’m afraid I won’t sense that little shred of life in Mae.

                             “Leave her be,” Father says. “What a lovely way to die. Look at all that blood, son.”

                             I pay them no attention and close my eyes. The fractions of seconds pass like a century before a tiny hope beats.

                             A pulse. It’s faint and barely distinguishable, but it’s there.

                             With a more steady hand, I run my fingers under her nose. A slow breath. Better than nothing. I take Mae’s wrist in my hand. The deep vertical line cuts into her flesh and straight to her bones.

                             Fucking hell.

                             I reach to the nearest towel, wrap it around the cut, and squeeze. The white material soaks instantly. I fetch another towel, secure it on the first, and keep the pressure.

                             I free one of my hands and dial Kane. “Have a car in front of my quarters now!”

                             The phone falls from my fingers as I reach for Mae. I get her out of the appalling blood pool. My heart almost stops beating at her frozen skin and hardly existent heartbeat. Keeping a hand on her wrist, I wrap her in a dry bathrobe, pick up my medical kit, and run downstairs.

                             “Come back from wherever you are, Mae,” I whisper, focusing on her lifeless face. “I’m the one who’s supposed to leave, not you.”