Page 14 of Amnesty

“C’mon, we’re done.” Eddie reached for my gun, and I handed it over. The three of us wandered through the path until it opened up into the field. As we were walking toward the rental tent, my mind wandered once again to Sadie and if Robbie had known her, too.

Something hard slammed into me from behind. A sound erupted out of my throat as I pitched forward. A sharp stinging sensation exploded across my lower back, an ache forming beneath it.

“No!” The word ripped roughly from my throat, and for endless seconds, the world as I knew it slipped away, another one taking its place.

The sharp sting of leather cut into my back, making my eyes water and ears fill with the distinct sound of my ragged breathing.Don’t cry. Don’t cry. He likes it when you cry.Another slice of pain slashed through me and my knees buckled.

“This is all your fault, Sadie. All your fault.”

I would have crumpled to the ground, but Eddie lunged forward and caught me, tucking me right into his chest. “Am,” he called. His voice seemed so far away. “Amnesia.”

Sunlight broke over the memory that had plunged me into darkness. His voice that had seemed lightyears away was right here now, as close as his body. “Eddie.”

“What happened?”

Pushing back the horrible memory, I swallowed. Suddenly, my mouth felt desert dry. “Something hit me.” I frowned. Or maybe it hadn’t. Maybe it was just a memory.

Before I could voice my confusion, Eddie placed me on my feet, and he and Robbie glanced at my back, which actually was still throbbing. I craned my neck over my shoulder, seeing a splatter of bright green covering the back of my suit.

“Oh, it was just a paintball,” I said, relieved. Being shot with a paintball was much better than the memory it unknowingly induced.

“What. The. Fuck?” Eddie growled. His voice was wild and untamed, dangerous even.

The sound of laughter and victorious crooning erupted nearby. “Nice shot!” someone called out.

“Bull’s-eye,” a man yelled. He was holding a gun in his hand, loaded with green balls.

“Did you just take a cheap shot at my girl?” Eddie confronted him, stepping away from me.

“Shouldn’t turn your back on the game.” The man tsked.

“It was an unarmed woman, dick face,” Robbie yelled. “She was leaving the game.”

He shrugged. “Still points for me.”

Everything happened at once the second the idiot spoke. Eddie ripped the helmet off his head. It made a loud thumping sound against the hard ground when he threw it down. Crouching low, he scooped up both the guns he’d dropped to catch me when I stumbled.

Holding one in each hand, he opened fire, shooting ball after ball right at the man who’d shot me. The sound of the gun releasing the “bullets” filled the air.

“Hey!” the man roared, stepping back as ball after ball hit his body. “Fuck! Ow!” He moved back, but Eddie kept going, walking calmly, almost as though he were strolling, but with eagle-like focus as he fired over and over.

One gun ran out of pellets. He tossed it down without missing a beat, still firing with the other.

The man on the receiving end fell back, chest heaving. Eddie walked right up beside him, staring down.

“Fuck, man, I’m going to have bruises for a month!” he rasped.

“Points for me,” Eddie said, giving him a hard look.

I stared in shock. His dark hair was wild around his head, the very ends fluttering around when the wind blew. At the base of his neck, some of the strands were damp with sweat and stuck out. His profile looked to be carved from granite, his jaw locked, the muscle protruding. Even though he was no longer using the gun, his eyes were still firing bullets.

He bent down, shoving his face close to the man. I saw his friends hovering nearby, unsure if they should intervene.

One looked ready to jump in. Robbie noted it, too. He made a sound beneath his breath, caught the man’s eye, and simply said, “I wouldn’t if I were you.”

“You owe my girl an apology,” Eddie spat.

“It’s a fucking game!” the man roared, beginning to sit up.

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