“Yes, bella?”
“I…” Reality over fantasy. Maybe the truth will set her free. She deserves honesty. We all do. “I’m sorry, Toni, but I can’t tell you what you want to hear. I…I don’t love you. I never have. And I never will. You’re seeing something that isn’t there. But we can get you help. We can?—”
I chose wrong.
Toni lurches away from me, her entire body quivering as she paces in tight circles.
“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! You are a liar, Emery Jones. Always fucking lying.” She whips her head at me, glaring. “Secrets and lies and bullshit! That is all you are! You use people! You are a user! You are scared of love, so you push it away! You push and push and push!” Spit sprays from her lips as she adds, “You are broken, Emery Jones, and I am offering to fix you! Let me fucking fix you!”
My chest rises and falls as I slowly rise to my feet, my knees weak and shaking.
“You’re not going to shoot me, Antonia,” I say. “I think all you wanted this whole time was my attention.”I swallow, glancing at the gun. “You wanted me to notice you, right? Well… I notice you, Toni. I-Iseeyou. And… And I’m sorry that I can’t give you what you want, but you’re not a killer. You’re not like Simone.” I hold out my hand, nodding. “So, give me the gun, Toni. Give me the gun and we can get you some help.”
Toni stands frozen in front of me, the fire in her eyes extinguished in seconds.
“Oh, Emery Jones…” She regrips the pistol, pain and sorrow and contempt capturing every single one of her sharp features. “You do not know everything.”
I’ve always wondered what it would be like to die.
I don’t need to wonder anymore.
The lead bullet soars through the space between us at a remarkably slow speed. Slow enough that I regret every moment that I've ever wished for death. Every moment that I've ever regretted life.
And then it hits me. Physically. Through skin and fat and muscle and bone.
I don’t want to die.
But my wants no longer matter.
With a gasp, I grab my burning chest, eyes wide as I stagger back to the bed. Pain ripples through me, my vision blurry. Blood streams through my fingers. So much blood. With a haunting smile, Toni brings the gun to her temple. No. What is she doing?
“I’ll see you in hell.”
I don’t see the second bullet. I don’t see anything. I don’tfeelanything. But I hear it. It’s all I hear. The ringing. It rings forever and ever and ever. Until it stops. Until it fades. And then there are voices. So manyvoices. Distant yet urgent. Hazy. So hazy. Like mist and fog and smoke. Cold. It’s so cold.
"BP's 95/60 and dropping. Pulse rate 121!"
Who is that?
"OR two is ready. We need to move."
Focus. I need to focus.
"Gunshot wound... Left side... Chest... No exit wound..."
The words float in and out of my consciousness.
"Prepare for surgery... Penetrating injury... Pulmonary artery..."
And then, darkness.
THE BLOODLINE
DAMON
The doorsto Mount Sinai Memorial Hospital swing open and I burst through, breathing ragged and frantic as I glance around, looking for Quin. This isn’t happening. Thiscan’tbe happening. She can’t die. She can’t fucking leave me too. I should’ve come with them. I should’ve manned up and gone on this stupid fucking trip. Maybe this wouldn’t have happened.
My gaze sweeps across the waiting room, gut twisting as families huddle around one another, tears and pained sobs echoing through the hospital. In the corner of the room, I find Quinton. His white dress shirt is stained with blood. Her blood. So much fucking blood.
