Page 133 of Heavy

“Stop! Stop, please!”

When I hear a third bullet ring, I don’t feel the pain it brings. My gaze shoots over to Cal, who is holding the pistol. It’s aimed at the door, and as she shakes violently, I can tell she won’t be firing it again.

Black dots dance across my vision and it’s difficult to register how I got to the floor. It could have been from the punch to my face, but equally the bullet that entered somewhere in my back. The floor shakes as I watch Calista run toward me.

Another loud crack of a gun firing accompanies a sharp pain in my leg. My vision blurs as I beg,plead,for the numbness to hurry and spread through my entire body.

I hiss through my teeth, dragging myself only a mere inch before a body falls beside me, grabbing onto my head and screaming out words that I can’t quite put together.

I’m pretty sure I’m on the verge of blacking out, which isn’t good. If that happens, my fight is gone, and so is my life.

“Damnit…” I sputter out.

A wet hand grabs my cheek and turns me. Cal takes up my entire world, and while I’m angry at her for not trusting me, she’s all I want to see while I’m dying.

The knowledge I’ll never see her again brings heat to my eyes. But what has them spilling over is I won’t be seeing my brother again, and I swore I thought I’d have not cared but it seems I do. I guess I was ready to start over, to try and forgive him.

I suppose the bright side for him is he at least got to say goodbye this time.

“I’m so fucking sorry…” she says through her sobs. “I-I’ll be with you soon… you can h-hate o-or love me”—she leans forward and grips my entire head in a hug—“in Hell, together.”

Her trembling lips press against mine and I smile.

“I’ll… bring the paint…” I whisper.

I’m dying, and I swore I was ready to finallylive.

43

Calista

Roughhandsgrabatme and tear me away from him.

“No, no, no! Let me stay with him, please!” The moment I’m disconnected from him, his head falls to the floor and rolls away from me.

He isn’t moving.

“RONAN!!!” I scream loud enough that my ears pop.

I kick so hard that it must hurt whoever is holding onto me because they curse out and I think on impulse, throw me. I’d dropped the gun on my run to get to him, and I wish I’d kept it or just used it to end my own life quickly.

My head slams against the edge of the front door, and I slowly slump to my knees. The capped syringe I grabbed digs into my hip, its dull point pressing into my skin. I’m ready to tear off the cap and drive it into my neck, ending this Romeo-and-Juliet style.

Except, I’m grabbed by my hair and brought up to my feet.

“Take her out of here, make sure to douse her hands in the gasoline,” the bitch Samantha says, and I scream out in pure rage right in her face. “Little pyromancer here. Killing her step-uncle and trying to flee.”

I reach for his hands, but he tosses me around like a rag doll. The car’s bright headlights stab into my sensitive eyes. My head throbs, my heart aches, and nausea twists in my stomach at the thought that I just got Ronan killed.

He wasn’t moving…

No, please… God, no… If you can hear me, please don’t let this happen.

I scream again, and again, and fucking again. I throw my elbows back, desperate to break free, but someone in front of me grabs both my wrists at once. A third person approaches, and the sharp smell of gasoline fills my nose as liquid pours over my hands and arms.

“No! You fucking pieces of shit, let me go! STOP!”

“Put her in the car and drop her off on the side of the road right outside of the community.”

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