Page 11 of Penalty to the Heart

I couldn’t care either way.

It means nothing to me.

Not anymore.

Not without him.

Chapter 2

Caleb

“Ca … leb … “

“Ca … leb … “

The struggling sound of my brother calling out my name forces me awake. As I slowly open my eyes, I find the simple act more difficult than it ought to be.

The fuck?

I’m too disoriented to make heads or tails of where I am, much less what happened, as my head pounds ruthlessly like someone is drilling holes into it. But it’s not just my head that hurts. My entire body is filled with aching pain, making every bone and muscle scream in agony. And when an acrid smell of smoke fills my nostrils, making me cough, my ribs feel like they’re on fire.

But there is another scent far more potent in the air, lingering all around me. It seeps into my senses, coating my nose and mouth with its distinctive tang.

It’s nauseating and fucking frightening.

I can almost taste it. Taste its violence.

The smell of blood is so overpowering that it becomes suffocating, coaxing me to cough it out of my lungs. As I struggle to catch my breath with the inescapable metallic tang, flashbacks of what occurred start coming at me at full throttle.

Partying all night after Nate’s wedding.

Calling Jack to pick me up.

Jack and I fighting.

Jack getting behind the wheel.

Bright white truck lights.

Then … the smell of blood.

As I force my lids to open, the first thing I realize is that I’m still strapped to the passenger seat of a car with the seat belt holding me in place.

“Ca … leb … “

“Ca … leb … “

I turn my head slowly to the side, and my heart clenches in horror. My brother is slumped over the steering wheel with a piece of metal jutting through his chest and out his back. Blood is gurgling from his lips, staining his chin and his neck, all the way to his now crimson shirt.

Panic grips me as I frantically fumble with the seat belt, trying to free myself. Nausea comes at me like a tidal wave when I try to move my arm to unlatch the belt off me. The pain is so intense that I end up puking all over myself, relief coming instantly.

Great.

Not only is my arm for sure broken, but I have a concussion, too.

“Ca … leb … “

“I’m here, Jack! I’m here!” I shout over the blinding pain, the hot tears pricking my eyes and blurring my vision.

---