Page 302 of Heart So Hollow

Just like when we were kids, he doesn’t see it coming. His feet fly out from under him, his back slams onto the dirt floor, and I go down with him in a cloud of dust. But we’re not kids anymore. Instead, we’re both just grown up, jaded brutes who claw our way back from strife angrier than ever.

And that’s what we’re doing now, locked in a perpetual battle. I don’t even remember when it started—the soccer field in Dire Ridge or the cemetery where I spilled his blood next to Evie’s grave? Regardless, now it’s on the dirt floor of my broken-down barn outside Gunnison, Colorado after he came into my house and chased the mother of my child through my forest.

We’re fists and grunts and breathing and thrashing until there’s a crack somewhere above me and then a yell. The beams above give way from the force of Brett’s body slamming against the decaying wall and the 100-year-old timber breaks free from the joists. I feel their impact all around me and Bowen and I release each other, rolling away as one end of the largest cross-beam crashes down between us.

I jerk my head up, searching for more falling debris, and then whip around in a panic. I don’t see Brett or Bowen. There’s dust and wood hanging precariously, threatening to pull the whole roof down on us. I can’t hear anything except shuffling and muted barking from outside and the creaking and banging of the beams as they hit the walls before crashing to the floor.

Kicking aside splintered wood and stumbling over beams wedged at awkward angles, I make my way to the far wall where Brett ended up after she ran through the door. There’s finally an opening in the wreckage and I duck under it and into the open space. Dust spins in the sun-soaked air and there’s suddenly more light spilling into the room through the gaps in the crumbling wall. I hear footsteps on the dirt and whip around just in time to see Bowen rushing me.

I brace myself, ready to absorb his impact, when a shrill scream cuts through the thick air and something darts in front of me. Bowen slams into me, knocking me back into the wall. I grab him by the shoulders of his t-shirt and prepare to push off the creaking wood. If I can throw him back into the debris for a few seconds, I can reach my weapon, unload the whole clip into him, and end this.

But as soon as I grab his shoulders, he tenses and then shudders. Then I realize his chest isn’t touching mine and I can feel Brett’s hair against my neck. Everything stops, and there’s just silence.

Bowen and I stare at each other, mere inches apart, face to face for the first time since that night at the old railroad bridge, sweat beaded on our foreheads and dripping down our temples. Nine years have passed with nothing but agony and limbo followed by pure vengeance. This was supposed to be controlled, instantaneous, clean…

But, even after all that planning to kill one another, we all still ended up in a chaotic melee of dirt and splintered wood, throwing elbows and trying to outrun each other like we’re still on the field. Except now there are no red cards or time outs or penalties. The only score is who gets to leave this barn alive.

He digs his fingers into my arm and chest, blinking hard, his mouth gaping with shock. He looks down, his face only inches away from Brett’s. She’s looking up at him with her eyes wide and mouth set with fierce determination. She’s crushed between the two of us, her chest pressed against his and her back against mine.

Bowen stays that way for a few moments and I’m not sure why he isn’t moving. But then he leans into Brett and he clenches his teeth in a painful grimace. Streaks of blood appear across his teeth, seeping onto the edges of his lips as he licks them away. Bowen slowly pushes away from me to take a step back, and that’s when I see it.

Brett’s fist rests just beneath Bowen’s chest, soaked in blood and gripping the handle of a Buck knife stuck between his ribs. Before he can move another inch, I clench my fists and jerk him back to me as hard as I can. Brett gasps and Bowen lets out a gnarled growl as the knife sinks deeper into him. He stares down at her, seething, for a few moments before I pull him tighter against me, her, and the knife.

Our eyes lock and I embrace the demon, his black eyes rimmed with fire and his mouth dripping with blood stolen from the ones who didn’t get away.

Digging my fingers into his muscles, I bare my teeth, “This is over,” I snarl with such fury that our heads touch.

I keep him there until I see the nerves fire for the last time and the light behind his eyes finally go out. And, this time when he falls away, I know he won’t get back up.

Looking down at Bowen laying on the dirt floor, bleeding out from the knife wound made larger by the struggle, it feels like I’m outside my body. I’ve had dreams about this and it seemed so real—I nearly killed Brett while having one—but now it seems surreal.

It doesn’t last, though. I look up in time to see Brett stumble forward and collapse onto Bowen’s legs. She catches herself on his body and stares at him for a moment. I reach for her, but pull back as her arm comes flying out and she sinks the knife into his chest, over and over and over…

Motionless, I watch Brett tear at his flesh with screams of both rage and horror, blood spattering across her face and chest. Finally, she slows, out of breath, and drops the knife onto the dirt floor, lifting her hands to look at them. Her own blood runs down her wrists from cuts made by the knife as it slipped from her hand. She tries to push herself up, but her movements are slow and disoriented. She mumbles to herself, shaking her hands furiously when she realizes she’s touching Bowen’s bloody body.

I step over his legs and crouch down next to Brett, examining her face. She runs her eyes over his body, lingering on his vacant eyes. She makes little sounds like she’s trying to talk, but it only comes out as shallow breaths. Her muscles tremble and she searches around on the ground like she’s lost something. And when her fingertips brush Bowen’s pants, she flinches like she forgot he was there.

I’ve seen her look this way before, trapped in a nightmare...

I wrap my arms around her waist and lift her up to get her away from the carnage, but she feels like dead weight. When I try to stand her up, her legs won’t hold her, and when her head falls back onto my shoulder, I see her face is ashen and her lips don’t have any color.

I reach up and grab her chin, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

It’s a stupid question. There’s a lot wrong right now, but she looks like she’s the one whose blood is draining out of her instead of him. Brett doesn’t answer me, only fights to focus on my eyes while hers drift away. She’s in shock.

“No,” I say, like I can stop it, “stay with me…”

In one motion, I sweep my elbow behind her knees and hoist her into my arms. She still doesn’t talk, but manages to squeeze my shoulders enough to stabilize herself as I run out of the barn and take off through the woods. I whistle over my shoulder as I follow the path that no one else can see but us and soon I see Pony racing through the brush. He passes me in no time, heading in the direction of the house.

“Talk to me!” I shout between breaths, climbing the needle-laden slope and sliding down the other side.

Brett still doesn’t respond. Her eyes are open, but she’s staring at nothing and blinking like she can’t focus. All the color is gone from her face and her head starts rolling like she can’t hold it up. I’ve seen death before, she hasn’t. And, I swear to God, if witnessing Bowen Garrison’s last breath takes her out as his final act of destruction...

“Brett, stay awake!” I jostle her against my shoulder.

I keep a good pace for a while, but begin to slow down about halfway back. My phone is in my pocket, but I can’t stop. If I stop, I slow down. And if I slow down, it’ll just take that much longer to get back. But then I’ll still have to get her out of here…

With a furious growl, I come to a halt at the ridge. It’s all downhill from here, and it won’t be long until the tree line comes into view and the trail spills out into our yard. But there’s no time to wait once we get there.

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