Page 93 of Cross My Heart

Amaya is shot in the head. Jones is shot in the thigh then the head. Vazquez is shot in the stomach. And the rest of them I can’t see.

But I know all of them are dead. Somehow, I know that they’re not gonna make it out of this—that we’re not. We’re fucked, and when they retrieve our corpses from this godforsaken country, no one will mourn me. Except for maybe one person.

What the hell has my life come to?

Did he leave her? Is he waiting for me like he promised? He said he would, so I have to believe him. Which makes my impending death even more painful.

Another shot rings off, but this one connects with flesh—my flesh. I cry out in pain as the left side of my chest feels like it’s on fire, and this time, when the darkness tries to envelop me, I don’t fight it.

I hear myself gurgle.

Feel my breaths stall.

I think I mumble as my eyes close, but as the feeling of someone dragging me pulls me out of slumber, I panic.

Moving my body, I fight against the hands that keep pulling me through dirt and blood, rocks digging into my back and cutting me. I scream as I feel where the bullet must have come out getting scraped, and the man drops me. We briefly make eye contact before he rears his arm back and punches me in the face.

Once.

Twice.

And then I feel the blood rushing out of my body as I bleed out on fucking enemy soil.

The next time I open my eyes, the sun is blinding me. Immediately I’m hit with a breath-stopping pain. It makes me hot all over, then cold all over. It makes me feel halfway dead. The way I should be. Why did they let me live? What the fuck is going on?

I hear the loud sound of the helicopter blades, feel the movement of it as we go up, and it hurts so fucking bad I scream and clutch my side in pain. But my limbs are moving slowly, too slowly, and I can’t get it the way I want to. My eyes start to close again as a wave of cold sweat washes over me, making goosebumps bloom all over my body. My heartbeat thumps in my ears loudly, the blood roaring until I can’t hear anything else. I try to breathe, but it’s impossible.

My eyes begin to close…

I feel a sharp sting on my face. “Wake the fuck up, Milner,” the man growls, slapping me again. I’m in and out, my eyes rolling back, and I feel the helicopter shift, which makes my body move again. But this time I don’t scream. I don’t think I have the energy to. “Sergeant! I said wake up! Fucking look at me. Don’t close your eyes.”

The man cuts my uniform open, my shirt discarded as I bleed out in the middle of fucking nowhere. Who knew I’d end up here? He puts oxygen on my face—a mask—and starts to pack my wound with something I can’t make out because the blinding hot pain that settles deep into my bones is excruciating. He jostles me around, turning me to my side, and I scream in agony.

I fight with everything I have.

I punch and kick, my body getting a shot of adrenaline out of nowhere, and when he jabs a needle into my leg and I feel my body go limp, there’s only one thought in my mind.

I want to die.

Just please let me die.

I wake up with a gasp, my body trembling and shaking from the panic I feel as I shift to sit up on the ground. I was under the bed again, and I look around the room trying to figure out what time it is. It’s still nighttime, which means—where the fuck is Tyler? I don’t want him to see me this way. Don’t want him to see me all fucked up over this shit.

Taking my phone from the nightstand, I look at his missed calls and all his text messages.

Tyler: Hey baby. You okay?

Tyler: Oh nvm you said you were going to nap. Call me back when you wake up.

Tyler: Noah, are you still sleeping?

Tyler: I’m starting to get worried.

Tyler: Please reply if you’re awake.

Tyler: That’s it. I’m coming home.

Just as I’m about to lock my phone, a call comes through. And of course it’s Tyler. I let it ring exactly three times before I reject it, sending his call to voicemail. I get up from the ground and begin to pace, pulling my hair. My eyes sting with tears that roll hotly down my cheeks, down my chin, onto my bare chest.

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