A low, keening sound works its way up my throat.
I want Webb.
Oh, I want him so badly.
As Franklin stammers his way through his lines, my gaze darts across the stage—taking in a still-crying Jesse, a terrified Franklin, and a bleeding Paul, who’s still clutching the knife sticking out of his belly.
I close my eyes against the gruesome sight only to see another image superimposed over it. But in this scene, it’s melying still and silent on stage with a knife embedded deep in my chest.
My heart aches; as if the blade is already in it.
Webb will be devastated if he finds me like that.
Though he has no reason to, he’ll blame himself.
I start crying harder, clapping my hand over my mouth to stifle my sobs.
I want to be brave. I want to come up with some ingenious way to save not just myself, but everyone here. But terror and despair overwhelm everything. All I can think about is how much I want Webb and how desperately I wish he were here.
Onstage, Paul wrenches the knife out of his stomach and pushes himself to his feet. Dario isn’t watching him, so Paul manages to take several wobbly steps unnoticed, the bloody blade held aloft in his shaking hand.
He’ll be killed for sure,the logical voice in my head observes.There’s no way Paul will get the jump on Dario. He’ll just end up shot instead.
Unless…
What if, the moment Dario’s distracted by Paul, I race out there to help? Could I kick Dario’s legs out from beneath him, like I saw Webb do while he was sparring with Ace? Could I kick him in the balls just like I learned in the self-defense class I took during freshman year in college? Could I do something?Anything?
“No more!” Paul shouts as he advances on Dario. “No more! You need to die!”
My heart races so quickly I’m lightheaded from it. Fear nearly paralyzes me, but I think of Webb’s courage and push myself past it, yanking free of Hannah’s hand and rushing onstage.
Dario turns towards Paul, his surprise quickly shifting to malice. His gun raises.
“No!” Paul cries. “It ends now!”
The bloodied knife trembles.
The gun holds steady.
As I race across the stage, time seems to slow. With each step, my heart throbs.
I fix my gaze on Dario’s legs, trying to remember exactly how Webb took Ace down.
If I get out of here,I swear to myself,I’m having Webb teach me.Not just the leg-sweeping thing, but all the cool martial arts things I’ve seen him do.
“Help!” Paul shouts. “Franklin! Simon?—”
A gunshot explodes.
Paul staggers back, clutching his shoulder. Bright red spreads from beneath his hand.
“So stupid,” Dario sneers. “And a terrible actor. You never would have gotten a real acting role. You’re lucky?—”
I’m just about to lunge for Dario when another shot rings out.
A large, red hole appears in Dario’s arm. A second later, the gun falls to the floor.
“Noelle! Get down!”
