“Bruised hands are the least of his concerns,” I mutter, laughing as more spit, blood or vomit dribbles out of the corners of my mouth.
“Lucky for me I have an alibi.” Charles laughs, punching me in the side again. He takes a few steps backwards. I allow my eyes to shut for a moment. When I hear a gun cocking, I open them. His friend pulls at my arms tighter, lifting my chest up more. “Any last words, fuck face?”
Well, I can’t say I’m surprised he brought a gun of his own. It’s not like he didn’t know I may have a weapon. Only mine is stashed in a drawer in the kitchen. Not my smartest moment, but I was hoping for the element of surprise.
I’m not going to survive this, but Prue will. He doesn’t know it. Charles believes he can get away with this, but he won’t be able to for long.
“Yes,” I say, trying to get a good view of the gun that is about to kill me before my eyes dart to the corner of the room. “I love you, Prue.”
The words barely leave my mouth before the sound of the gun going off fills the room. A sharp, ripping feelings spreads through my chest and if it hurts, I can’t feel it. The only thing I can feel is my head hitting the floor.
Sparks light up behind my eyes. Sky blue sparks with pin prick pupils that dance with desire, fury and maybe a hint of love.
Hopefully, the cameras were able to pick up the last thing I said. I want Prue to know she was the last thought that went through my mind before I died.
THIRTY-SEVEN
When the cleaninglady finds me handcuffed to the bed, she doesn’t seem the slightest bit surprised. She fishes the key from the backpack Ben left behind as if she had been instructed exactly where to find it.
Once she frees me, she hands me a note and leaves the room like this is a completely normal situation for her.
My heart feels like it’s been ripped out of my chest but I’m too angry to cry. I crumble the note up without reading it, tossing it across the room before thinking better of it and walking to get it.
I smooth it out, looking over the words. Clearly it’s Ben’s handwriting, because there is a little doodle of a broken halo on the top of it and a broken heart on the bottom. He knows the tattoo I drew for him. Other than those two markings all it reads is ‘Plane ticket waiting for you at SFO airport.’
I rip the note to pieces and throw them all over the room. It’s childish and dramatic but I don’t care. They obviously knew I was tied to the bed for the last two hours.
Grabbing the backpack off the floor I call myself a car as I march out of the hotel room. I don’t want to spend another second here any longer.
By the time I get to the airport and pick up the ticket back to LA that is waiting for me, it’s been almost four hours since Ben left me.
I’ve been calling and texting him nonstop. Everything from calling him names, to begging for him to not do it. He doesn’t respond to any of them, and it only makes me crazier.
I scroll through my phone not sure who else to call. Cameron is a theory, but I don’t want him involved in this anymore than he already is. When I get to the end of the list and see Wes’s name programmed into my phone, I know who I need to call.
It rings twice before he answers.
“Hello, Prue.”
“Where is he?”
“I dropped him off at his condo about thirty minutes ago, so I assume he is either on his way to being a murderer or dead.”
“And you just let him do it?”
“He’d let me if the roles were reversed.”
“No. He wouldn’t. He would’ve done it for you.”
“That’s probably true,” Wes says softly. “And I would’ve helped him had he let me.”
“You should’ve taken him anywhere else. Anywhere but there. What kind of friend just lets…”
“Prue. Listen, I love the guy, probably more than you, so trust me when I say that there was no way I could’ve talked him out of this. I tried.”
“Should’ve tried harder.” I choke back a sob. “I can’t lose him.”
“You barely knew him. Imagine how I feel.”
