Page 90 of Never Enough

“Shh, save your strength.” A sob catches in my throat, but I swallow it down. “I love you too. More than anything. Just stay with me, please.”

Luckily, the wail of sirens finally arrive. I clutch onto Alex in anticipation of help.

After what feels like hours, the world outside the bathroom door bursts into life. “In here!” I shout. Police officers and paramedicsflood in. They find Victoria, gun still in hand, and my mother dazed on the floor. Alex lies nearby, gunshot wound visible. We’re huddled together, clinging to each other.

“Let’s get him onto a stretcher,” one paramedic says.

As they lift Alex, I refuse to let go. His grip is weak but there, and it’s everything. Victoria reaches for my other hand, her touch surprisingly gentle.

We move through the hallway, a procession marked by urgency and sorrow. The air is thick with a metallic scent of fear.

Outside, night has fallen, wrapping us in its cool embrace as we emerge into the blinding lights of the waiting ambulance.

Tears blur my vision as the EMS workers swarm around Alex, their movements swift and practiced.

“Is he going to be okay?” My voice cracks over the words. I reach out, needing to touch him, to assure myself he’s still with me.

His eyes are closed, but he’s moaning. A sheer of sweat drips down his forehead. I brush my fingertips against his soaked hair.

One of the female EMS workers, her hair pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail, meets my gaze. “You did good, hon,” she says, nodding at me before continuing. “Applying pressure slowed the bleeding. You gave him a fighting chance.” She then checks his straps to prepare him for the rig.

I did my best during the circumstances, but Alex and Victoria are the real super-stars. If it wasn’t for them, I’d be dead. We’ve had our difficulties, but when it really mattered, both Whitmore siblings pulled through for me. They risked their lives for me.

I have to tell Victoria this. Just as how I love her brother, I appreciate her help just as much.

“Victoria, I—” A shrill scream interrupts me.

Celeste bursts on the scene, her heels clacking on the asphalt. “You idiot!” she shouts. Expecting her to be talking to me, I whip my neck and brace myself for her fury. After all, it’smymom who shot Alex.

If I had told someone about Mom’s letters, I could have stopped all this. Trust me, I’m just as angry at myself as Celeste is.

“You idiot!” Celeste repeats, except she’s not headed towards me. “You were supposed to get Daphne, not Alex!” Celeste stands at the edge of chaos while my mother, handcuffed and wild-eyed, stares back at her with an unhinged glare.

Everything clicks.

Mom knew exactly where I was tonight. Just how, months ago, she knew my address to send me letters. It’s because Celeste fed her information. All to get rid of me so shecould be with Alex.

Hell, she planned on consoling Alex right here, right now, after my mother shotme. I know so because, just like Alex, Celeste is supposed to be at the fundraiser right now.

In a hoarse whisper, I ask, “Y-you orchestrated this?”

“Always the victim, huh, Daph?” Celeste’s bleached hair flutters in the wind as she continues her tirade. Her nose crinkles with hatred. “It’s all your fault!”

Is it? I’m doubting myself again when, still on the stretcher, Alex mumbles before squeezing my hand. His gentle hand brings me back. I didn’t shoot the gun, and I’d never do anything to willingly put anyone in danger.

Victoria must share my sentiments because a guttural growl rips from her. “You fucking bitch!” She lunges, all dark hair and fury, but an officer’s arms encircle her waist just shy of contact.

“Whoa there, little lady. Don’t worry, we’ll handle it,” he reassures, pulling her back.

“Handle this, then!” Victoria shouts, jerking her head towards Celeste. Her eyes burn with a rage that could set the world alight.

Celeste’s oversized lips part in shock as another officer steps forward, the silver of the cuffs reflecting the ambulance lights. They snap around her slender wrists with a sound that reverberates through the tense air.

As they lead her away, I can’t tear my eyes from the scene, a car crash of emotions tumbling inside me. My mother and Celeste bound by their hatred and envy.

“Let’s go, Daphne.” Victoria’s voice is softer now, her anger momentarily subdued by the gravity of our shared pain.

“Thank you,” I manage, the words hollow. I’m not going to fully believe he’s going to be okay until he’s all stitched up and walking out the hospital doors.

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