Page 138 of Roses Are Dead
And with that, he tipped backwards, and was engulfed in the blaze.
“No!”
One of his feet was unlit, I grabbed it and tried to pull him out of the blaze, uncaring that sparks hit my arms.
Bear grabbed my waist and flung me away from the inferno. He rose up between me and Carl.
“Do you love him that much?”
“I don’t love him. He can save Beth. Please?”
I love you. His words echoed in my memories.
“Please?”
Carl’s laughter was little more than a wheeze.
34
Bear
I tried to do everything right. I gave her time, space, autonomy, and respect. Everything Carl tried to take from her. Even her life. I don’t know how she got free, but Rose was far from unharmed. Her wrists were bloody and raw. The jagged edge of her hair hung uneven from where she’d cut it to get free.
There were bruises, scrapes, scratches, and blood on her naked skin. Burns ran down her arms and along her spine from the pole as the entire pyre burst ablaze. She favored her left side as if it were broken or worse.
And she begged for that bastard’s life.
I turned to the horror show behind me. The conflagration was high, but slowly being quelled by the downpour that dumped on us. The lightning that had struck the hill… no, the post she was tied to, moved on.
My head still hurt from the blows I took, and I tried to keep upright just in case Carl somehow walked out of those flames.
“Please, Bear. For Beth. Not for me.”
My hammer necklace tapped against my chest with each labored puff of air I sucked in.
I heard her screams. And ran from the road at full speed. John told me where the place was, but didn’t mention how fucking far everything was or how much that would slow me down. I’d poured so much into getting up that fucking hill I couldn’t fight Carl. But I could watch him burn, right?
For Beth she pleaded. Rose loved her more than she ever could love me.
I was being selfish and jealous, and a weak-ass monster by doing nothing.
I caught one of that dickweed’s feet and dragged him out of the flames. The rain continued to pour down, dowsing the blaze of his clothing almost instantly. He was charred from knee to shoulder. The side of his face was burnt. The other side, uncannily calm. That side’s eye opened.
The fucker was still alive.
He stared at me with that single unburnt eye, accusing me. Judging me.
I hefted his sorry ass into the bed of his truck and tossed a tarp over him. “Get in the truck, Rose.”
She limped blindly, falling to a crawl. I tossed her in the passenger seat with a little more care than I showed Carl. Her labored breathing didn’t sound good. She shook from the cold or shock. I stripped off my outer layers and wrapped her in them to warm her, then tried to figure out how I’d get her out of here.
Luckily, barbecue boy had left the keys in the ignition. Grand theft doesn’t apply if you’re carrying the owner in the bed, does it? I shrugged off those intrusive thoughts and backed the truck around to pick my way out of this hellscape. A half hour later, we’d made it to the hospital, and I had to explain myself. Or not.
You show up with two burnt people in a stolen truck and there’s not as many questions as you’d think. Until they notice one of them is wearing only a Destroyers leather coat and your bloody T-shirt as a skirt.
I sat my ass on the floor outside Rose’s curtain-ringed cubicle in the emergency department. Carl was upstairs in the ICU or surgery somewhere. I hoped the motherfucker died.
As another doctor swept into Rose’s space, a disgusted-looking nurse carried a bundle of bloody sheets out. I stopped her. “Do you have my coat?’
