Page 62 of Devil's Damnation
"You have something that belongs to me," Dime continues, his voice carrying easily through the speaker. "And I want it back. Unharmed. Unchanged. Perfect."
"She doesn't belong to you!" Logan's voice cracks. "She's not property!"
"You're right. She's not property. She's mine by choice. She chooses to be with me. She chooses to love me. And I choose to protect what's mine."
My phone buzzes with a text. I glance down and see Dime's message: Police on the way. Keep him talking. I'm coming.
"How long have you been watching her, Logan?" Dime's voice is conversational now, almost friendly. "How long have you been following my woman around?"
"Months," Logan answers before he can stop himself. "Since last school year."
"And what exactly did you think was going to happen? You thought you'd what – scare her into caring about you?"
"I thought... I thought if I could just make her see..." Logan's voice trails off, and for a moment he looks like what he is – a confused, hurting teenager who's made some very bad choices.
"She sees you just fine, kid. She sees a student who needs help. She sees someone who's throwing his life away over a fantasy."
"It's not a fantasy." Logan's grip tightens on the gun. "What we have is real."
"What you have is a delusion. What I have with her is real. I know what she looks like when she first wakes up in the morning. I know how she takes her coffee. I know the little sound she makes when I kiss that spot right behind her ear." Dime's voice drops to a growl. "I know how she sounds when she says my name in the dark."
"Stop!" Logan screams, and the gun wavers in his hand. "Stop talking about her like that."
That's when I hear it. Sirens in the distance, getting closer.
Logan hears them too. His head snaps toward the windows, and his face goes white. "You called the cops."
"I called my boyfriend," I say quietly. "He called the cops."
"No." Logan shakes his head frantically. "No, no, no. This isn't how this was supposed to go."
"How was it supposed to go, Logan?" I keep my voice gentle, even though my heart is hammering so hard I'm surprised he can't hear it. "What did you think would happen?"
"You were supposed to realize." His voice breaks, and tears start streaming down his face. "You were supposed to see that I love you more than he ever could! That I would do anything for you."
"This isn't love, sweetheart." The endearment slips out before I can stop it, and Logan's face crumples. "Love doesn't hurt people. Love doesn't scare people. Love doesn't point guns at the person you care about."
"But I do love you." His voice is so small, so broken. "I love you so much it hurts."
"I know you think you do. But Logan, you don't even know me. Not really. You know your teacher. You know the person I am in this classroom. But you don't know who I am when I'm home, when I'm scared, when I'm happy, when I'm angry. You don't know my favorite movie or my biggest fear or what I dream about at night."
"I could learn." He takes a step closer, and I press back against the desk. "I could know all those things if you'd just give me a chance."
The sirens are getting louder. They'll be here soon.
"Logan, you need to put the gun down. You need to let me help you get through this."
"I can't go to jail." His voice is barely a whisper. "My mom... she'll never forgive me. I've already screwed up so much."
"Then don't screw up anymore. Put the gun down. Let's end this before it gets worse."
For a moment, I think he's going to do it. His hand starts to lower, and hope flares in my chest. We're in a room that's right by the parking lot. The door to my classroom is right by the main entrance.
Then we hear the screech of tires in the parking lot outside. Car doors slamming. Heavy footsteps on the stairs.
Logan's head snaps up, and when he looks at me again, there's something different in his eyes. Something final.
"They're here," he says flatly.
