Asher tilts his head, reading me like an open book. A small smirk tugs at his lips before he shakes his head. His pleading for understanding and forgiveness dissolving into amusement.
I roll my eyes.
Mr. Chapman scoffs. “You don’t give a shit, do you?”
“Meh,” I shrug, heart still racing. I need to get him far away from Asher. Get him to turn his back on him and face me instead.
“You know, she told me a funny story about when you were younger. It was when I knew for sure she was the right person for this job,” My lip curls in disgust.
“Rue, baby, don’t listen to him. Look at me. Focus on me,” Asher shouts.
“Shut up!” Mr. Chapman snaps. “She told me that one night one of your father’s friends tried to get into her bedroom plastered from one of your father’s parties. That he tried another three times before she approached him when he was sober. She told him where your room was and sent him your way instead,”
My heart stops.
Instead of telling father that his friend was trying to abuse her, she sent him my way instead. Knowing fine well that if I tried to tell anyone anything, they would never believe me in the first place.
I thought I hated her before.
“She left out the part about you slitting his throat and ending up locked up for three years though,” He chuckles as Asher tries to get up. The gun to my head presses in harder, halting his attempt.
“Oh, thank god you stopped them,” Deena breathlessly moans as she grabs her face with a wince. “She caught me off guard, I’m sorr…” One minute Deena is hobbling over to us, the next her head snaps back as a bullet hits her. The shot echoing around the church like a Ping-Pong ball.
Mr. Chapman doesn’t even acknowledge her, but in the commotion, Daylan shifts to the side trying to reach his gun, when the man beside me moves to stop him, I take my opportunity, I grab his gun, disarming him but he whacks it out of my hands as I turn to him, the gun sliding under the pew’s. Asher is up and trying to get to me, but the other hooded man grabs a handgun and holds it on Daylan.
Fuck.
Once Mr. Chapman retrieves his gun, face full of venom, we all halt and raise out hands in the air, eyeing each other’s movements.
A shift in the darkness snatches my attention and when I scan the broken side window, I see Jacob. His rifle pointed at the man beside me, we lock eyes, and he nods to man closest to me, then uses his free index finger to point to me. I count the bodies and guns, quickly assess how far away everyone is. If Jacob takes out the man holding a gun on Daylan, our teacher could shoot any of us and vice versa. I need to side check my teacher and try to get his weapon away from him.
I glance back at Jacob as Asher narrows his eyes at me, I notice his shifting closer from the corner of my eye.
“Oh no you don’t,” Mr. Chapman snaps. “I am just going to get rid of you all, pack up and leave this fucking drab of a town. Looks like I will be around to witness your downfall after all Asher,”
Jacob holds up his fingers and counts down. Three. Mr. Chapman takes a step towards them.
Two. Another step as his finger hovers over the trigger tight.
One.
I side check him hard as his hand stretches out beside me. His body slamming into a pew, knocking the wind out of both of us, but I jump straight back up. The gun is still on his hands even though he seems a little disorientated.
Daylan lunges for the rifle at his side as Asher uses his chance to lunge at our teacher. But Mr. Chapman spins it towards him faster than expected and time suddenly stretches, slow and heavy.
I make my decision in a heartbeat.
I run, diving in front of Asher. His eyes widen, panic pure and raw. I throw myself against him, pulling him close as pain sears through my back. His screams vibrate through me. Another shot whistles past, but this one is from Jacob, striking our teacher squarely.
We hit the floor. Dust and splinters cloud the air. Asher’s face streaked with tears, raw and trembling.
“What the fuck, Ruella?” His voice is ragged, but I don’t move my eyes from him. “What the fuck!”
“No. No. No. This can’t be happening,” My chest feels heavy, like I am sucking in water and with each laboured inhale there is less room for oxygen. I taste the metallic tang of blood in my mouth as Asher screams at his friends.
“Call an ambulance. Now!” He screams, shaking with adrenaline.
When he looks back at me his tears fall onto my face as he holds me tight, keeping me tethered.
