Page 42 of What Doesn't Kill Us

Click.

He stares at me, unblinking. “That’s one. Where do you think the bullet is? Do you think it’s number two? Maybe number four? Shall we find out?”

A small whimper escapes through my clenched teeth. Fire burns behind my eyes, the heaviness in my chest suffocating me.

Family. Loyalty. The job.

I try to focus on the mantra of my entire being, but the meaning behind them becomes smaller and smaller as Darius continues to study me, the barrel of his gun still pressed firmly beneath his chin.

Click.

“Well, that’s number two. Isn’t this poetic? You get to complete your job without getting your hands dirty.”

My whole body is shaking.

This isn’t what I want.

Loyalty. The job. Family. It all shifts inside me, imploding inward until I don’t even know what they mean through the sheer agony sending my heart into overdrive.

I shake my head. “No. No. No.”

He narrows his eyes at me, his grip on the gun tightening, and my eyes squeeze shut as I continue to chant, “No. No. No. No. No.”

Every time the denial falls from my lips, it gets louder. I’m thrashing my head around furiously. I feel the fiery burn of tears trailing down my cheeks as I pull against the restraints, begging and pleading for it to stop.

Family. Loyalty. The job. None of it fucking matters.

But this needs to stop.

I hear his voice cut through my hysterics, and it’s still calm and cold. “What are you saying no to? You don’t want me to die? This is what it’s come to; the least you can do is have the decency to open your eyes and watch what you’ve done. You open those lying fucking eyes and enjoy how you did what no one else has ever managed to do: bring the Beast to his fucking knees!”

“No. No. No. No. No.” The words fall from my lips, broken and guttural, my head shaking with such force I’m rattling my brain in my skull. I’m struggling, forcefully trying to release myself from the restraints so I can physically remove the gun from his hand, even if it means turning it on myself to make it all stop.

Fuck family. Fuck loyalty. Fuck the job.

Click.

He shrugs, sighing as he says, “Oh, that’s three. We’re almost there now.”

“Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. No. No. No. No. No.” I’m choking on the words now; the sobs in my chest break loose, and tears flow freely from my eyes, which are squeezed shut for fear of seeing him completely wrecked before me.

The sounds falling from me are that of a wounded animal, and it feels like my heart and guts are being ripped right out of my body because he won’t stop, and I can’t get free.

I squeeze my eyes even tighter against the chaos before me, and soon, I’m screaming and sobbing incoherently, begging for him to stop, pleading for him to let me take it back, to let me fix it. He’s no longer talking. I can’t hear him moving through the wails of my voice echoing through the room, and I brace myself for the imminent sound of the gun going off.

Click. Click.

Boom.

I’m screaming, choking on family and loyalty and the fucking job. Choking on my tears, my breath, and the bile in my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut so tightly the tears can no longer escape, my breath caught up in my chest as I don’t even dare to breathe.

And then, after a few moments, I force my eyes open, bracing myself for the bloody mess I will find in front of me.

But there’s no mess.

He wipes his mouth, then holds his hand up in front of me, now smeared with red of his own blood, his eyes hard on mine as he says, “I am on my fucking knees before you, the blood of your enemy drying on my hands yet still you refuse to let me in. Tell me, what the fuck do I have to do?”

I sob with relief, hesitating as my eyes meet his furious ones. My body sags in the chair, whispering, “Let me go.”

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