I can’t leave him.
Roman looks at me with narrowed, distrustful eyes. He must see the scared, unsure flicker in mine because he relents and sighs painfully. “We need…ugh…to get to a different shoreline.”
I hate how much agony he sounds like he’s in. It makes everything I’m feeling seem so pathetic—the cold that reaches into my bones, the weight of my arms and suffocating grip of the jeans.
“I’ve got you,” I say steadily, grabbing beneath his arms and starting to slowly kick. We’re moving at a sluggish pace, but it’s better than not doing anything. I have to stop frequently and roll onto my back and float to catch my breath.
Roman groans every few minutes. After the fifth time I stop, I have to start talking to keep myself from going to a really dark place in my mind. I can’t stop thinking about both of us drowning.
“Have you e-ever come close to dying before?” My jaw trembles despite my best efforts. Our heads are close together, and Roman’s hand softly bumps against my neck as we float side by side.
He’s quiet for so long that it becomes obvious he won’t respond. I give myself a moment’s reprieve and shut my eyes.
“Is this your way of flirting, Briar?”
I ignore that slight and tug on a strand of his hair. He grunts with a short laugh.
“Yes, I have. Many times in fact.” His voice is as gentle as the ripples of water around us. I shut my eyes and listen deeply. “This isn’t one of those times. So don’t panic.”
My brows pull together. “How can you be sure?”
He makes a sound that people make when they smile and exhale. “Because you just know when it’s close. Death is a cold, vile grip against your ribs. A knocking at the cusp of your hopes and dreams. You’ll know.” He tilts his head a bit and looks at me. I do the same, feeling my chest lurch at the closeness ofhis weary eyes. Darkness consumes every fracture of the world, everything but his lonesome stare. It’s captured me. He spares me the smallest of grins. “Perhaps you already know.”
A secret so dark I dare not share it.
“What are you, Roman?” I bring my hand to his cold forehead and trace the scar there with my forefinger. He observes me, motionless and digesting every move I make.
He blinks as if he’d been lost to his thoughts and then lets his eyes shift back to the sky, the stars our audience.
“Something that should be locked away and forgotten.”
It feels like it’s been hours by the time we reach another bank. Neither of us said another word after his comment about him being locked away. Is that truly how he sees himself? The thought weighed heavily on my mind and kept me moving.
I didn’t stop or get close to the beach until I was sure I didn’t see anyone moving. The shoreline we end up on has a lip of rocks that surround the top, edging the forest and making it impossible for someone to reach us from behind without considerable effort and noise.
A small break that we really needed.
I’m not sure if Roman’s conscious anymore. I checked his pulse a few times along the way just to make sure he was still alive. It seemed silly to think someone like him could…?I don’t know, just die, but I worried enough to check frequently.
I manage to drag him onto the sand after struggling for a few minutes and collapse beside him. My limbs are trembling from overuse, and it’s impossible to tell if I’m actually freezing or not.
Everything I learned in survival classes from university seminars indicates that I’m likely cold and should seek warmth. Roman needs to warm up too.
My hands won’t stop trembling as I check his chest for a wound.Nothing. That’s a relief. He’s definitely out cold, so I roll him onto his side and let a gasp escape my lips.
There’s a bullet lodged between his ribs, almost beneath his shoulder blade. It’s odd though, because it pierced his flesh, but didn’t go in all the way. It’s as if something stopped it. This must be why his breathing was so labored and he couldn’t move.
Lucky son of a bitch.
I brush the bullet softly with my thumb, and it falls into my palm. Roman’s blood streams down his back and wets the sand.
Cursing, I take off the vest and my tank top. The vest won’t help in stopping the bleeding, and I’m not sure how much a wet shirt will help either, but I press it against his back regardless until the bleeding slows.
Once I’m satisfied, I pull the shirt away and stare at something metallic from beneath the entry wound. It looks like a metal meshing of some sort, like chain mail but much smaller. He must’ve had a surgery at some point that required it to be placed there, but I can’t shake the odd feeling that accompanies that idea.
Why would anyone need metal meshing like this under their skin?
The wind stirs, and it’s almost as if the forest itself beckons to me. I glance over my shoulder at the tree line. This would be the perfect time to escape and leave Bane Falls and all its devils and secrets behind. But?… I stare at Roman’s peaceful expression. It’s the first time I’ve seen him without his poker face. He’s almost unrecognizable without his signature scowl and heavily furrowed brow.
