Chapter EighteenTaylor
Everything happened so quickly. All I knew was that I’d had no choice: I’d had to distract those fuckers so Ellie and Kami could escape.
I moved quickly, throwing books and chairs to get the guys’ attention, then ran toward the door myself.
I was grateful that some of the other kids had helped the girls get out instead of handing them over the way those three dickheads had wanted. If they hadn’t, I’d never have gotten out myself, because I couldn’t have just abandoned them.
Once in the hall, my mind took in everything instantly: Ellie and Kami at one end, turning the corner to find a hiding place, and Julian at the other, aiming his pistol in cold blood.
“NO!” I shouted, feeling my throat clamp up. I couldn’t let them die. I couldn’t bear the thought of either of them being gone. I had to save them. Protect them. But I didn’t know what more I could do.
When I saw them hit the ground, I thought the worst.
Two shots. One for each of them.
Had they been hit?
I wanted to run over to them, throw myself on top of them, but my survival instinct took over, and I found myself hiding from Julian. Either he hadn’t seen me or hadn’t cared once he saw his real target in front of him. The girl he blamed for all his problems. The girl he had been obsessed with for months. The girl he’d dreamed of since he first saw her.
It was Kami he really wanted, and I wasn’t surprised he hadn’t wasted time on me when she was just a few feet away.
His obsession had saved me.
And my subconscious had taken advantage of that, even when my conscious mind had refused to.
I hid.
But I didn’t go far.
I ducked into the classroom right across the hall.
Through the window, I could see the kids who had been in the library—they were escaping. I saw Julian chasing Kami. She had gotten up, and I was praying she’d find a place to hide.
Then the two other shooters followed.
Once there was nothing but a deafening silence in the hallway, I hurried out to where Ellie lay, praying to God she wasn’t dead. I fell to my knees in a pool of her blood where her chestnut hair framed her face.
“Come on, Webber,” I said, my hand to her cheek, “don’t do this to me.”
She was unconscious, but when she heard my voice, she blinked her eyes open, giving me hope.
“Ellie, please,” I said, cradling her in my arms, “you’re going to be fine, I promise.” My voice cracked so much that she probably couldn’t even understand me. My face was awash in tears.
“T-Taylor…” she stuttered.
“Shhh,” I said, rocking her softly. “Don’t speak…”
“I like you, T-Taylor…” Blood trickled from her mouth, and more was seeping out of the bullet wounds in her torso.
“I know, I know…” I said with a sharp pain in my chest.
“I w-wish we could have g-gone out,” she confessed. Was she smiling at me? Was that really possible?
“I’d have liked that,” I responded, trying not to look at her wounds. I looked beyond the blood, at the person she had been, the person she really was. And my mind was flooded with images of her. Ellie smiling. Ellie stopping on the court to say hi on her way to cheerleading. Ellie getting into arguments with everyone in the cafeteria, Ellie pretending to grimace when I walked past her and made some dumb remark.
The way she’d nibble at her nails, the way she seemed able to use literally anything to pull her hair up: a pen, a pencil, a chopstick, a fork…
Her smile was gorgeous; I remembered her shining it on me once in a while when I cracked a joke. Had I been flirting with her without knowing it? Was that why I’d liked getting on her nerves?
