Page 100 of Together We Burn
Gritting my teeth, I shoved up on the arm not currently pulsing like it had a separate heartbeat, and brushed the hair off Stefany’s dirt-covered face. Her eyes were closed.
“Stefany?” I questioned, brushing my thumb on her cheek, smearing grime across her soft skin. Louder, I repeated, “Stefany? Open your eyes, baby, come on.”
Scrunching them tight and lifting her hand to her head, she groaned. Finally, blinking her eyes and drawing back her hand, we looked at the tips of her fingers smeared with blood.
“Fuck,” she moaned, touching the spot again with a wince. We needed to get her checked out; she could have a concussion.
Suddenly, she was off the ground looking toward where her mother had been, all memory of her injury forgotten. Emilia was dragging herself along the gravel, her long black hair tousled across her face and neck, similar to the creepy girl from the ring. Even her leg was bent at an odd angle, with blood oozing from what might have been her thigh.
I made to get up and grunted, my arm giving out under my weight. Concern danced across Stefany’s face as she flicked her sight between her mom and me, the need to take out her mom but wanting to check I was alright plaguing her.
“I’m fine,” I said, unsure if that was entirely true, but I wouldn’t be her priority right. “Finish this.”
Stefany’s gun had fallen from her hand when we fell, skittering across the parking lot, and was no longer within arm’s reach. I passed her my gun, and she worried her lip.
“Go,” I urged, pushing the gun in her hand. Struggling, I pressed to my knees, slowly getting to my feet, and touched the spot on my arm that throbbed. The long sleeve of my navy Henley had been ripped, and fresh blood coated my skin. It didn’t seem too serious; a deep flesh wound more than anything, one I knew would heal with a couple of stitches. My other injury, however, was the one I wasn’t too sure about.
Pressing my hand to my stomach, I sluggishly walked to stand by the side of Stefany as she faced her demon. Emilia had still been trying to scurry away when she had caught up with her, towering over her mother like the Angel of Death. Covered by her daughter’s shadow, she finally stopped moving and huffed a bitter laugh.
“You fucking bitch,” she sneered, clutching her leg with a hand missing two of her usually perfectly polished nails. “You ruined everything like you usually do. You were a mistake, a regret I’ve had from the day you were born.”
Stefany stared down at the woman, unaffected by the hatred pouring from her lips. Wordlessly she lifted her arm, pointed the gun, and…
“Wait,” Emilia cried. Stefany’s hand stuttered mid-air. “I’m… I’m sorry.” The fear in her eyes was so deep it nearly drowned her. “I carried you, birthed you. You’re my baby.” Stefany cocked her head a little. Listening to the sudden change of direction to her words was enough to get whiplash. “I lo-love you, Stefany, sweetheart.” Emilia’s blooded hand reached out for her. “You wouldn’t really shoot your mom, would you?”
A loud bang echoed in the quiet night air. Then a crunch of stones.
“Yes, I would,” Stefany said, letting the gun fall to the ground with a clang. We stared at the hole in the middle of her forehead, Emilia’s unblinking eyes looking absently at the sky.
As the life slowly drained from them, I felt Stefany’s demeanour sag. Maybe it was relief, or maybe it was regret. Either way, I didn’t want her looking at that woman for a second longer.
I threaded my fingers with Stefany’s and tugged her away from her mom’s body. The flex of muscle as I pulled her sent a flash of pain through my arm, right to my fingertips. I grunted from the burning sensation as it journeyed through me, releasing her hand quickly and cradling my arm to my chest.
“Are you okay?” I asked, and Stefany gasped, her hands flying to touch me, but pausing briefly when I flinched. It hurt like a bitch, and although I knew there was a gentle side hiding beneath Stefany's cold, rough exterior, the adrenaline pumping around her body had her hands shaking to the point of no control.
“You took a bullet for me,” she said, edging closer and lightly trailing her fingers around the bloodied graze slashed across my bicep. “Why?”
Looking at the wound, I shrugged, taking her hand in mine and bringing it as close to my lips as I could. Bending my head the rest of the way, I brushed a soft kiss on the back of it.
“You almost died once before; now it’s my turn,” I said, speaking against the back of her hand.
Shaking her head, she laughed. “You're not going to die, idiot.”
“Really? This sure feels like dying.” I chuckled through a groan. The movement pulled against the hold on my stomach, an injury she still didn’t know about. “I can see the bright white light.”
“That’s the headlights of the car, you big baby.”
“This just means you get to play nurse again. Having the girl I love taking care of me after I saved her life. Tell me how that’s not heaven?”
She was struggling to reply. Stefany wasn’t one for voicing her emotions unless they were words of disdain or hatred, and right now, she looked like a little deer caught in headlights. But I’d tell her every damn day that I loved her if given the chance because she had been it for me.
She dropped her gaze, swallowing hard, then said, “You got shot in the arm, and it missed anything that could be considered vital. You'll get full motion of your wanking arm back in no time.”
“Jesus, Stefany, can't you let me be romantic for one second without lowering the tone?” I laughed, wincing once again.
“Stevie,” Alex yelled from over by his truck, handing a white bandage to his brother. Mac picked at it, finding the end, and began wrapping it around his upper arm.
“Fuck,” Stefany muttered, sucking her lip between her teeth as her eyes searched mine. I rested my forehead against hers, letting her know it was okay. She weakly smiled, then jogged toward her best friends.
