Page 101 of Mafioso's Muse

‘Willow!’

That voice sounded like Harrison, calling to her from above.

She coughed again, then reached a hand up to wipe dust off her face. One arm appeared to be working. What about the other one? She tested it. Both arms were working, but when she looked at her right hand, she saw that it was covered in blood. Nothing hurt, though. Nothing that she could feel, anyway. She tried to move her legs, but they were impossibly heavy. Slowly lifting her head, she looked down at them and saw that everything from the waist down was buried in debris. That was the moment the panic returned.

What if I never dance again?

In the distance, she could hear sirens. Nearby, she heard wood being dragged about and people shouting. All the sounds merged into one buzzing noise in her mind until she could no longer differentiate them.

Until she heard him speak.

‘Willow? Willow, can you hear me?’

She hadn’t realised her eyes had closed again until they opened at the sound of his voice.Vaughn.Her mind whispered the word as she looked around for him, desperate to see his face, knowing everything would be all right if she could just lay eyes on him. He would fix this. He would make sure she danced again.

But he wasn’t there, and she felt herself drifting towards the darkness again.

‘Willow.’

He sounded closer this time, and when she opened her eyes, his face was above hers, eyebrows drawn tightly together and jaw clenched.

‘Don’t leave,’ she said immediately, her voice barely recognisable.

Vaughn shook his head. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’ He looked down at the debris covering her. ‘Tell me what hurts.’

She tried to focus on her body. ‘I… I don’t know.’

‘That’s okay.’ Sweat was beading on his forehead. ‘I’m going to move some things around. If anything hurts, you let me know.’

Somewhere, someone was screaming. Willow turned her head and glimpsed a group of emergency responders beyond a fallen stage prop. ‘Who’s over there?’ Another pain-filled scream answered her question. ‘Is that Piper?’

Vaughn gently turned her head back. ‘They’re getting her out. Try not to look.’

She straightened her head so she was staring up at the fly tower and grid above while Vaughn was on his feet, lifting things that seemed too heavy for him.

‘Willow!’ That was Lili yelling her name from some distant place.

I’m all right. He’s here.

‘I have her!’ Vaughn called to Lili. ‘Stay there! It’s not safe!’

That had Willow looking around at the pieces of splintered props leaning and dangling overhead. Everything Vaughn moved seemed to make something else shift.

‘You should go,’ she said. ‘The props?—’

‘Save your energy,’ he said. ‘I’m not leaving you.’

She closed her eyes again. Her eyelids felt so heavy. Then she sank into that cold space between awake and asleep.

Seconds slipped by. Maybe minutes. People continued to cry out for help, fear in their voices. They were dancers and crew members, trapped beneath the twisted wreckage that was once the stage.

‘Almost there.’ Vaughn’s voice was strangled by exertion. ‘I need you to stay awake. Can you do that for me?’

She forced her eyes open.

A wooden pillar was lifted off her legs, and she was relieved when she felt blood start to flow to them. It was a relief to feel anything. Lifting her head, she looked down at her torn, bloodied tights, then began to cry.

Vaughn’s face appeared above her. ‘Look at me.’ His tone was firm. ‘You’re all right.’ He searched her eyes. ‘Don’t let a bit of colour scare you.’