Page 43 of Salacious Devotion

Why don’t I lower my head? Why don’t I pretend to be dead like everyone else? I could have lived if I hadn’t lifted my head to look around and ended up giving away my beating heart.

I’m not hurting. I don’t understand why. I know I’ve been shot. I can feel the warmth of the blood as it oozes out of my chest onto my shirt. I must be in shock. There’s no other explanation for why I’m not in pain.

How do I have so many thoughts? Are they all happening at once and it’s only been a blip of a moment? Or has time truly slowed down like it seems?

The man with the rifle appears to be loading it slowly. There’s a loud clang that makes me flinch when he drops the empty cartridge to the floor.

He’s still smiling like he knows a secret. Except there is no secret between us because I’m about to join the dead. In a few seconds, I will have a hole in my head to match the one in my chest.

I hear sirens, but they’re too far away to save me. They can’t save any of these other people. They were all dead in seconds. Why was I spared? I think I pee myself. I’ve never been this scared in my life. No one should ever experience this kind of fear.

What did I do to deserve these moments of horror instead of dying instantly from my first gunshot wound like everyone else? It’s not fair. I should be dead, too.

I’m struggling to breathe. I can’t lift my body or move in any direction. No one is going to save me.

Sadness brings tears to my eyes. The tears remind me that time is so very slow. I’m confused about why I have time to cry. I open my mouth, wanting to beg for my life, but no sound comes out. I can’t speak. I’m frozen from either fear or my injuries. Maybe both.

The man grins, chilling me to the bone. His wicked smile distorts the tattoo that runs down the side of his face. He lifts the rifle and pulls the trigger.

I scream.

* * *

“Paige!”

Someone is shouting at me. Is it the gunman? How does he know my name? I shove against the hands touching me, trying to get away, trying to free myself. I need to stay alive. I have a boyfriend. I love him. I want to grow old with him.

But I’m going to die, and I’m so angry. I push back against the arms that wrap around me. They hold me so tightly. My arms are trapped. It makes no sense.

“Paige… Baby, it’s me. Dane. I’ve got you, baby. You’re safe.”

Dane?

I jerk my eyes open and then squint as light blinds me.

Dane’s face fills my line of sight. He’s holding me in his lap, and he eases his tight grip when I look at him. He wipes wild strands of hair from my face. “You’re safe,” he repeats.

I shiver, and tears start to fall. I’ve cried rivers in the past few weeks.

I’m safe.

I’m safe.

I’m safe.

Dane has me. I’m in his home. I’m in his bed. Safe.

I sob.

He’s sitting against the headboard, and he rocks me in his arms. He kisses my temple. “I’m here, baby.”

I grip his bicep as giant sobs wrack my body, spilling out of me. I’m worn out and broken. I was barely holding on to my sanity, and now that I’m safe, I find it too difficult to keep it all in any longer.

He keeps rocking me.

When I’m all cried out, he grabs some tissues and helps me blow my nose. “You had a nightmare,” he explains.

I nod, though it wasn’t a question.

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