“He’s lost a fair amount of blood,” a man in his late fifties said as he walked in carrying a black bag. “I’m Doctor Dan.”
The doctor kneeled beside him and rolled Jake onto his side. Jake worked his soaked pants back down his hips, smearing the blood along his skin.
“Looks like it’s a graze. It’s pretty deep, but it’s nothing we can’t fix here. You got lucky.”
Charity stood in the doorway, a gun in hand. “He’s taken care of me when I should’ve died,” she said as if it would make me feel better.
I swallowed hard and released the sob I’d held back, silently crying into my hands. This couldn’t be my new reality. I needed air. This stuffy room bled with Jake’s blood and the memories… I stood as the doctor worked on his leg and stumbled out of the room, my palm leaving bloody streaks as I caught myself along the door frame.
There wasn’t enough air that wasn’t tinged with the metallic stench of iron, and the hallway wasn’t better.
Drops of blood beside spent shell casings. Bullet holes littered the walls like an empty honeycomb.
“Where are you going?” Jake said, his voice labored and pained.
My heart raced in my chest as I moved along the damaged hall, and with each boisterous punch against my breastbone, it spiked dread to blistering degrees.
“Charity,” he called out as I hit the stairs.
“On it.”
“You shouldn’t leave,” she said behind me.
“I need some air,” I hissed.
I took two more steps, my feet slapping against the concrete with purpose when she pounded behind me and pulled me to a stop.
“Your boyfriend is down there bleeding. What are you doing?”
“Get out of my way.” I pushed her to the side and continued my ascent, my stomach swirling with nausea. The electrolyte drink I’d consumed threatening to come back up.
“I didn’t want to have to do this,” she said as I hit the top of the steps.
Her body wrapped around me, and I fell to the ground with her legs wrapped around my hips.
I braced myself for impact, my hands hitting the floor for only a second before she’d twisted us around. Her legs pinned mine down as I lay on her, my back to her chest. Charity’s arm swiped across my neck, her elbow bent at my throat and squeezed.
The blood in my skull throbbed, adding sharp pulses to my temples. I clawed at her, running my nails down her arms, pulling against her forearm, but she’d locked herself in like a boa.
My body twitched as the pressure moved from my temples to my eyes, then my cheeks.
“Charity? What are you doing?”
“Putting her to sleep.”
“What? Why?” Nico said.
“Jake wanted me to stop her.”
“Let her go. I’m sure that’s not what he had in mind.”
Black spots, like tiny gnats, swarmed the corners of my vision, foretelling my brain shutting down. I jerked again, a full-bodied shudder.
Charity’s hold loosened, and she shoved me off of her.
I gasped, rolling onto my belly and pushing myself up to my feet.
“You fucking psycho! What’s wrong with you?” I said, my voice cracking.