Page 39 of CurVy 13

If he vomited, then…

He’s asphyxiating.

God, Tyler’s going to kill him.

I shoot around in a circle, the press of people, of alert eyes, of witnesses, pulse frantic protectiveness through me. Citizens watch—recording.

God, no.

Get him out of here, Vallie!

And the final component hits hard: Negative feelings towards police and external figures.

Lunging forward, I tug on Tyler’s pulsing bicep, enough to disturb his focus, allowing Oliver’s mouth to breach the surface. The gurgling sound churns my stomach.

Tyler throws his arm backwards, shoving me away. I fall to the pavement and gape at the spectacle.

I just fucking watch.

As Oliver stops thrashing.

As Tyler doesn’t give up.

I’m not sure when it ends, whether it’s seconds or minutes, or anytime at all, but Tyler is approaching me, and I’m in his arms in an instant.

In disbelief, I stare over his shoulder as I’m carried from the scene. A body lay in the fountain, the head disappearing into a cool, watery grave.

A car revs angrily.

Then we are in it.

Tyler slides me across the backseat, belts me in, and Donnie pulls into oncoming traffic.

Car horns blast my eardrums. I grasp at my chest, holding the frantic organ inside.

You killed someone, Tyler.

Donnie’s angry barking echoes. “God dammit, Tyler! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” He throws the car up the curb, cutting the sun out as he tunnels between two large buildings.

People jump out of the way.

Oh, God, I just saw a man die.

Tyler is silent and still, but when I look at him, his throat vibrates as he hums something that can’t be heard over all the other aggressive sounds.

We appear on the other side of the buildings, dropping into a one-way lane.

The car slows down.

I try to breathe.

I just saw Oliver die.

Setting a normal pace, Donnie filters cautiously through traffic before changing direction and circling around. I’m confused, blinking out the window as everyday life passes, but then we are on the highway and heading towards home.

My home.

CHAPTER 17

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