Page 81 of Play With Me

“You two are psychotic.” Acid tears line my eyes, burning as they trail down my cheeks. “Why go through all this trouble, Kate? Why not just leave him? You deserve better?—”

“Don’t you tell me what I deserve!” she roars. The bag she’s holding drops to the ground, revealing a small, shiny handgun clutched in her fingers. “I deserved to be happy! You took that from me! Mick was perfectly happy with our arrangement untilyoucame along!”

My chest muscles spasm from the instant anxiety of having a gun pointed at me. Slowly, I raise my hands as Luca’s head whips in her direction.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he asks in alarm, reaching for the gun.

“He won’t leave me if she’s no longer an option!” she snarls, jerking away from him. “I never understood what was so special about you.” She waves the barrel in my direction.

Luca’s large frame dwarves hers as he grabs her wrists. For such a petite thing, Kate puts up one hell of a fight as they wrestle for control of the firearm. Logically, I know I should flee. Run. Scream.Anythingto get out of this situation.

But my feet are frozen, the sound of Kate and Luca struggling playing like a soundtrack as flashes of Maya as a baby run like a projection in my mind.

Microscopic moments of her getting older—moments I haven’t even experienced with her yet—and a pair of hazel eyes.

A deafening crack resonates through the room.

Something hits me in the chest with such force that it knocks me back. Pain splits through my temple. Warmth seeps below me.

“Fuck! Carmela!” I’ve never heard Luca sound so panicked before.

Copper fills my throat—the metallic taste hot, and thick, and bubbly.

The rushing sound of footsteps races by as warmfingers gingerly touch my arms. “Fuck…fuck…fuck. You’re gonna be okay.”

As I struggle to breathe, I think of Maya making pastelitos with Mami in the kitchen. I can smell the guava and hear their laughter.

“Forgive me,” Luca whispers. Then he’s gone from my side.

Distantly, I hear shouting as black creeps into my vision. It gets easier to breathe. Or is that because I’ve stopped?

My eyes shut as the door slams open, but I’m sinking further and further into the inky sea that’s pulling me under.

Someone is yelling.

A white light appears above me—giant, feathery wings embracing me.

As they close around me, all I see is green.

And all I can think is that I never told Ande?—

Anders

No. No. No. No.

I can’t make sense of what the paramedics are saying.

Don’t you die on me. You’re not allowed to fucking die, baby girl. We haven’t had enough time.

The machine in the ambulance chirps loudly in the middle of the chaos.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

Carmela

Death is a fickle thing. It will swallow you whole, rolling you in its fiery bowels before deciding it doesn’t hunger for the taste of your flesh. So it spits you back out. Sometimes, you emerge from its depths whole, and sometimes you're…less.

Less angry.

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