A bitter cold wind beat mercilessly against the red brick of an aging hospital. It howled through a covered entry way lighted by glowing red letters of a sign that read “EMERGENCY.”  The wailing siren that had grown louder on its fast approach was abruptly silenced as tires screeched to a halt at the double doors. Spinning red lights beamed through the pre-dawn darkness into the waiting room, becoming stripes by shadows of horizontal blinds against the pale white walls. 

      The uniformed team of first responders raced through the automatic doors with a gurney carrying a man’s bloodied and contorted body. The draft that accompanied them chilled a lonely pacing woman to the bone.

      With arms folded tightly across herself, she moved to the side as they hurried across the shiny floor. Their shoes squeaked and the wheels clicked, echoing their arrival throughout the disinfected hallway as they ran to deliver their patient to awaiting staff. 

      As the electronic doors slowly shut and the voices began to fade, the sniffling woman sat sadly into one of the worn chairs. She brushed aside her greying brunette hair with one shaking hand and thought of how much she hated hospitals.  The only good to have come from one were the births of her two daughters.

      The smells and sounds had become an unwelcome reminder of her husband’s suffering and his fight to survive. She blamed herself for his agony. She knew he endured treatments for her and their children, and she found herself praying he would soon find peace.  

      She took a deep breath at the conflicting emotions and brought her thoughts back to the reason she was there so late that night. The same ER staff that failed to save her oldest daughter was in charge of her youngest, the victim of the worst crime she’d ever come to know.

      “Mrs. Norah?  How is she?” a tall blonde asked as she hurried to sit beside her.

      The matronly figure was startled for a moment by the sudden appearance of the young woman. She’d forgotten her daughter’s friends were there. She slumped in relief at the company, feeling better at having someone to sit with in her anguish.

      “Oh, Amy,” replied the despondent mother in a trembling voice. “The doctor said she’ll be all right, but we shouldn’t expect a fast recovery. She’s been through so much.”

      Amy put her arms around Mrs. Norah as she sniffed and tried to muffle a sob.  Another woman stepped up and wrapped her arms around them both.

      “Melody will be okay. You’ll see,” she comforted.

      She tried desperately to sound optimistic, but she wasn’t sure how her friend would make it through what had happened. 

      Shaking her head in doubt, Mrs. Norah replied, “Melody’s had more disappointments and disasters in her life than she’s deserved, but she’s come through it all with a smile and a stronger will to succeed. But this…  Bridgette… I just don’t know.”

      “She didn’t deserve this,” Amy cried. “After all she’s done for people, it isn’t right.”

      “She’s receiving an award next week from the sorority,” Bridgette told them. “It was supposed to be a surprise, so I didn’t tell anyone. It’s for her work as a victim advocate.”

      “All the speeches and pep talks she’s given to victims don’t matter now, do they,” remarked Amy. “It isn’t fair.”

      “It really isn’t,” Bridgette agreed. “It’s one thing to be an advocate and something else to be a victim. I think those same words would tear her apart now.”

      “I’m her mother and even I don’t know what to do,” Mrs. Norah said with a sob into a tissue. “She’s going to need more than any of us can give, I’m afraid.”

      The sound of the doors sliding open and feet racing through the tiled foyer drew the trio’s attention. The two women seated on either side of Mrs. Norah rose to meet the new arrival.

      “Amy! Bridgette! I came as soon as I listened to my voice mail,” cried a dark-haired girl, slightly older and more casually dressed than the other two. She returned their hugs quickly and pulled away, eager to ask questions and get answers. “Where’s Melody?”

      “She’s in a room, Lauren,” answered Amy.  “She just got out of surgery.”

      “What happened, Amy?” she asked anxiously. 

      Amy began to twist her bleach-blonde locks nervously. When she looked away in guilt, Lauren turned to the other. She didn’t fail to notice the sparkly make-up mixing with streams of heavy mascara, glitzy party clothes, and stiletto heels.  

      “Bridgette, what happened?” she asked with dread. 

      Bridgette raked her shaky fingers through her strawberry blonde hair as fresh tears poured down her face. 

      “We were all having fun, Lauren. We each found a guy and we were dancing and having a good time. Next thing we knew, Melody was gone and so was the guy she was with.” 

      She covered her face and sobbed loudly into her hands. 

      “We left the club and drove all over looking for her,” Amy continued while Bridgette composed herself. “We didn’t find her for like three hours. She was… She was…” 

      Amy couldn’t finish her sentence. She and Bridgette both started sobbing.

      Lauren looked to Melody’s mother. She walked around them and sat beside her. 

      “Mrs. Norah, are you okay?” she asked in concern. 

      Mrs. Norah took a deep, shaky breath as she stared at her feet. “We’ve been suffering so much in so many ways, but Melody has done her best to keep the family’s spirits up. She was certain the new year would bring better luck, but look now. Tonight is New Year’s and...”

      Her voice trailed off into sobs and Lauren held her close until she could catch her breath.

      “Do you know what happened?” Lauren asked when it seemed her friend’s mother was able to speak again. 

      She was certain she wasn’t going to get a straight answer from her friends, who seemed overwrought with fear and guilt.

      Mrs. Norah cleared her throat as she tried to remember all they had told her when she’d arrived at the hospital.

      “They went to the Jade Monkey,” she replied. “Bridgette and Amy picked Melody up around eight. She said she’d leave for home after the New Year countdown at midnight because she’s supposed to start an apprenticeship at the museum at nine in the morning.”

      She glanced at the clock on the waiting room wall at the mention of the time and watched as the digital number flipped to twenty past five. 

      “When twelve thirty came and went with no word from Melody, I became worried,” she continued. “None of the girls were answering their phones. It isn’t like Melody not to call if she’ll be late, but I didn’t think something terrible would happen to all three. They always stayed together for safety. If something bad were happening, at least one of them would call.

      Bridgette finally called just after two thirty. They had lost Melody, and when they found her, she was badly hurt.” 

      Tears began to fall again but she continued with a shaky voice. 

      “They were here when they called. They came here right away and the hospital called the police. I arrived the same time as the officers. 

      While Melody was in emergency surgery, the girls gave their statements and the man’s description to a sketch artist. I just came from sitting with her a while. She didn’t say anything, just stared through the window. Her doctor and the officers are with her now.”

      Lauren looked over at Amy and Bridgette, who had quieted some. They looked at her with shame. 

      “What have I told you guys about drinking with men you don’t know?” she gently scolded, but she didn’t speak in a harsh tone. 

      Lauren had graduated two years before them and Melody, so she was like the older sister. She knew they felt horrible, but their carelessness could have been avoided. She supposed this lesson was enough of a reprimand to last a lifetime.

      “It wasn’t like that, Lauren,” argued Amy.

      “It was Dae and Jae,” Bridgette added.

      “What he did to her…,” Mrs. Norah continued but couldn’t bring herself to be specific. “The doctor said she’s only heard of it twice before, and the officers said the same. The other two cases happened in the last two months. With Melody’s attack, they’re now calling him a serial rapist.”

      Lauren looked at Bridgette and Amy when Mrs. Norah evidently left out something more sinister and cautiously asked, “What else did he do?”

      They looked at each other and Bridgette gulped hard. 

      “We found her behind the club,” she began. “We looked everywhere before we got into the car to find her, but she wasn’t there. We came back after a while to get some help to look, and that’s when we saw a crowd outside. We moved through and saw her lying in the alley naked and unconscious. Someone had called the police, but we had to get her out of there.” 

      “It didn’t look like she was going to make it if we waited,” Amy said with a sob. “It was really bad, Lauren.”

      “Dae and Jae helped us cover her and get her into the car,” continued Bridgette. “When we got her here, they rushed her to one of the rooms and called the police. They had to rush her into surgery because of all the things that happened to her.” 

      “We think it was a guy we met at the club,” Amy told her.

      Bridgette nodded as she continued. “Yeah, we’re pretty sure it was him since he was the only one she was hanging out with and he was gone, too.

      So he burned these really weird designs on her chest and belly, like ritual symbols or something like Melody studies. She was covered in blood, too. She woke up for just a minute in the car and told us he tortured her in a field and raped her. Then she was asleep again.” 

      Bridgette started to cry and Amy joined her. They were shaking and terrified, realizing it could have happened to either of them.

      Lauren put her arm around Melody’s mother as she started to cry, as well. 

      Two uniformed police officers came into the room a moment later. Another man with a digital sketch pad followed.

      “How are you, ma’am?” asked one of the officers as she put her hand lightly on Mrs. Norah’ shoulder.

      “Not well,” she replied weakly, “but I’ll be strong for Melody’s sake.”

      “We’re here for you, Mrs. Norah,” promised Lauren. “If you need anything, you know you can call me.”

      At Lauren’s kind offer, a second officer cautioned, “This is the third attack since November. You ladies need to always be on guard and stay in nights, at least until this man is caught.”

      “Let your friends know how he operates,” added the first officer. “He met the other two victims after they left the nightclub. They were in their mid-twenties. Your friend was the youngest so far at twenty-two. 

      He drugged her with a new drug called X-Strain*. It was the same for the last two victims. 

      All three of his victims were taken somewhere away from where he picked them up, tortured, raped, then brought back to the same area. He laid their bodies nearby where they would be noticed, but he’s never been caught on a security camera. That’s why meeting with the sketch artist was so important.  

      Almost everything in all three cases were the same. The only difference in this attack is that Miss. Taskle is the only one who survived.”

      “There’s, also…” The first officer shook her head to silence the second as he began to add more details.

      Mrs. Norah’s grip on the arm of her chair tightened.

      “What else?” she asked fearfully.

      “Mrs. Taskle,” the officer replied, “detectives from special crimes are on their way to take over the investigation. It’s their case so they will be better able to answer your questions.”

      At the moment Melody’s mother was about to press the officers for more, a bright bolt of lightning illuminated even the shadows at their feet. Seconds later, a loud clap of thunder shook the windows and brought with it a sudden down pour.

      “Wow,” sighed Amy. “It’s coming down hard.”

      One of the officers mumbled something under his breath about the crime scene. Before anyone could ask what he had said, the double doors beside the check-in counter swung open to reveal Melody’s doctor.   

      The sketch artist stepped up and gave a slight bow of his head out of respect to the distraught women. 

      “We’ll get this picture out right away,” he promised. “You did great, especially Miss. Taskle. She did better than most people in her situation.”

      He nodded his farewell and joined the officers as they made their way into the fiercely pelting rain.

* X-Strain is the drug first mentioned in "Cultivating Lilies." This is the first indication of a crossover.

‼️ Although I marked this chapter as Mature, I didn't mark the paragraphs containing the violent mentions. This is because I didn't go into any detail. In the future, when she describes the incident, there will be chapter markers 🩸.