Page 105 of Until Bax

As he gets high, his hate-filled eyes stay locked on mine, but I refuse to cower under his gaze.

“You need help.” He might have said that I cost him everything, but it’s obvious his problems are way bigger than me.

“Do I, bitch?” He stands, tossing the pipe and his lighter toward his backpack.

“Yes, you do.”

“No, what I need is for you to shut the fuck up.” He starts pacing again.

“It’s not too late to stop this.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He points the gun at me.

“There are some things you can’t come back from. You don’t want this to be one of those things.”

“Shut the fuck up!” he screams, pulling back the trigger as he aims off to the side of me. I hear the bullet cut through the air, then feel the wood splinter beside me. Screaming, Kourtney backs away from him and me, and he aims the gun at her. “I said shut the fuck up.”

“Okay.” I move between him and Kourtney and hold up my hands. “Okay,” I whisper.

“I’m tired of bitches like you telling me what to do. All you do is yap your fucking jaws. You never just shut the fuck up.” I press my lips together to keep myself quiet. I don’t need to rile him any more than he already is, especially when he’s high on whatever it was that he was smoking. “Fuck,” he roars, swinging his foot back, kicking through the dirt, sending dust and rocks flying toward Kourtney and me.

I squeeze my eyes closed, then cover my face when he does it again and again while shouting and cursing. With Kourtney whimpering in distress behind me, I pull my hands away from my face when I hear a thud, and then my eyes widen when I find him on his knees with his hand against his chest, heaving like he’s struggling to breathe. My eyes shoot to the gun he’s still holding in his hand, then to his face.

He looks panicked as his eyes lock on mine.

Scrambling to my feet, I start to rush toward him but stop when he tries to lift his hand holding the gun. He’s lost whatever strength he had. He can barely lift his arm.

“You’re having a heart attack; we need to call an ambulance,” I tell him, and he shakes his head. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Fu-ck you,” he wheezes before falling to his back. I glance back at Kourtney, who’s looking at him with wide eyes.

“Go search his stuff for a phone,” I tell her, and she shakes her head. “Now!” I scream, and she clambers to her knees and crawls across the space to his bag.

I slowly move toward him with my heart pounding so hard I feel nauseous. When I’m close, I reach down for his hand holding the gun, and it takes me a second to pry it away from him, but I get it.

“I can’t find a phone,” Kourtney says, sounding panicked.

“Take this.” I hold the gun out toward her, and she starts to shake her head. “Take the gun and go hide it outside,” I say firmly, and she comes over to me, physically shaking. Once she has the gun and is running to the barn door that is closed, I drop to my knees and check him for a pulse. He has one, but it’s barely there.

Shit.

Running my hands over his pockets, I dig out Kourtney’s keys but can’t find a cell phone on him.

“Okay,” Kourtney says out of breath. “I hid it.”

“He doesn’t have a phone,” I tell her, holding out her keys. “I want you to drive to the nearest house and call the police, then bring them here.”

“You want me to leave you with him?” She backs up a step. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Yes, you are. I’m going to stay with him until help gets here.”

“Olivia.”

“He’s dying.” I shove the keys at her as tears fill her eyes. “I don’t have time to argue with you. Just go get help.”

“Please come with me.” She takes the keys with her hands shaking.

“I can’t leave him like this.”

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