Chelsea
Doctor Stuart was tendingto a player, helped by one of the physical therapists, leaving me to walk up to the infirmary alone. The stadium was buzzing with people, so I wasn't truly alone until I stepped inside.
Wherever Otis Skinner was, he wasn't in the infirmary, much to my relief. He spoke to me respectfully these days, but at the same time, often put me on edge. I suspected I did the same to him, but his façade was always cool and calm. Polite but still a mask.
I placed aside the kit I’d carried down to the field in case of emergencies, and opened the laptop to update the records on tonight's game. We'd had a few grazes and scrapes, but nothing too serious. No broken bones, no suspected concussions. Ramsey's knee was holding up.
All of that was good news, but this felt like the calm before the storm. Everything since Sadie was shot felt like that. Moving into the new house kept us busy and my mind off things, but the sense of impending… something was there. Doom, or at least a reckoning. The possibility of someone coming after us again.Something.
I felt like a fly right in the middle of a spider's web, waiting for the arachnid to come and strike. I couldn’t even struggle. All I could do was hang on as best I could.
Fingers dancing over the keyboard, I entered the last of the details and saved the file. I was closing the laptop when the sound of footsteps echoed through the corridor outside.
My pulse immediately ratcheted up. Sweat sprang up on my palms and under my arms.
Don’t be silly, I told myself. People passed by all the time. This was a busy stadium, even at night, when people moved around cleaning.
In the back of my mind, I realised no one had passed for the last ten or twenty minutes. No one stopped in. The other doctors hadn't appeared.
I was alone.
I reached for the closest object to defend myself with. The laptop. As weapons went, it wasn't much, but it was all I had for the moment. I inched around towards the treatment room. I could lock myself in there and call for help.
If this was a horror movie, I'd do something stupid like call out ‘who's there?’ Since it wasn't, and my life might depend on being careful and quiet, I pressed my lips together instead.
I reached around behind me with one hand, searching for the door frame, while stepping back, bit by bit. I waved my fingers back and forth. Where was it? I wasn't that far away from the doorway. Was I?
Finally, the back of my hand connected and I gripped the door frame.
My eyes on the infirmary door, I guided myself backwards, hoping whoever was approaching didn't hear the click of my heels on the floor. I moved as silently as I could but they sounded painfully loud. My heartbeat was just as deafening, thundering through my ears.
I passed the threshold into the treatment room and reached for the door handle. If I could get it closed, and duck out of sight of the small window…
The footsteps were getting heavier and quicker, whoever it was was moving faster now, as if they were in a hurry. They might pass straight on by.
My instincts told me otherwise. They were coming here.
My mouth was dry, but I forced myself to swallow.
You've got this, I told myself.You'll be okay. You know how to look after yourself. You're Doctor Chelsea fucking Miller, remember?
I held onto the laptop tighter, raising it as the footsteps neared.
Get the door closed,I told myself. I stepped around behind it and pushed it shut, still keeping my gaze on the doorway.
They were close now, so close I could?—
"Chelsea?"
I almost threw the laptop and slammed the door before I registered it was Dallas standing in the doorway.
"Holy shit." I sagged, almost dropping the laptop on the floor. "You scared me."
"Yeah." He stepped in towards me, hands out in front of him. "I can see that. Were you going to throw that at me?" He pointed to the computer in my hand. "I know I like it a little rough sometimes, but I've never thought of involving technology in that way before."
I managed a watery smile. "I thought you were someone else." I stepped out of the treatment room and placed the laptop on the closest desk.
He frowned. "Why are you alone? You're not supposed to be alone."
