Ada stumbles off the elevator on deck level, expecting the warmth of the sun, only to be met with the shroud of night. The cool night air kisses her sweat-soaked skin, and she emerges onto the deserted street. It's late, the world cloaked in shadows. Her clothes cling to her, heavy with blood, and she gasps for breath before collapsing to her knees. How did I end up here? How did I descend to this level? Am I mad? Horrified faces flash through her mind, their screams echoing in her ears.
Her anger evaporates, leaving behind a churning sea of filth and guilt in her stomach. All she wants is to go home, to take a long, scalding shower, and to find solace in the embrace of her fat, lazy cat, and in the warmth of Hunter's lips. She longs to run her fingers along his square jaw, to feel his comforting presence. Hunter. How long have I been gone? He must be beside himself with worry.
In her imagination, she pictures Hunter tirelessly scouring the streets for weeks, his cruiser a beacon of hope in the darkest hours. He's probably checked the morgue; she thinks with a shudder. I'm so sorry, Hunter. I'm coming back to you.
From the depths of her bones, she summons a reserve of strength, hoisting herself to her feet. The streets blur around her as she walks with an almost lifeless gait. The streetlights, like falling stars, cast hypnotic patterns that beckon her forward. Her feet ache, and the bones within her seem to clank together, their protective padding stripped away.
Few stragglers wander the late-night streets, their eyes wide with caution as they quickly retreat from her path. She barely registers their presence. One thought propels her: she must reach home and find Hunter. He will make everything right. He will hold her, comfort her, and erase the horrors she's witnessed. In his arms, she will find refuge, and this nightmare will dissolve like mist.
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In a daze, she turns a familiar corner in Middletown and unexpectedly finds herself crossing the park's playground near her house. She stumbles and sobs, envisioning Hunter throwing open the door, his face etched with worry and relief. He'll clasp her to his chest the moment he lays eyes on her.
"Hunter!" she cries out into the night as if her voice could summon him. "Hunter, baby, I'm here. Help me, please."
Someone scurries away at her approach beneath a flickering streetlight. She forges ahead, every step drawing her nearer to her porch, where the light remains on. He's waiting for her, perhaps sleeping on the couch, anticipating her return.
As she draws closer, the familiar red and blue lights of a squad car hurtling toward her catch her eye. She almost halts, wondering if it's Hunter. But she can't stop; she must reach the sanctuary of her home, where healing and Hunter await. Soon, they'll be reunited, and he'll understand what she had to do, how she had to protect herself from those men in the grey cloaks. His fury at what they've done to her will be fearsome.
She reaches her door just as the squad car screeches into her driveway. It's not Hunter's car; she senses it deep within her bones. It doesn't matter why they're here; all that matters is seeing Hunter. She slides her key into the lock and pushes the door open.
The darkness engulfs her, silence reigning within. Hunter is not on the couch. "Hunter," she cries out into the void, her desperation palpable. "Baby, help me." Her voice trembles with anguish. She collapses to her knees in the middle of the living room, staining the white carpet with the blood on her clothes. "Baby!" she wails, burying her face in the carpet.
The house remains still, and Hunter does not appear. The officer from outside steps into the doorway. She glares back at the intruder before recognizing the silhouette. "He's gone," Brad says solemnly.