Page 74 of Stealing His Cupcake
The heart? I wasn’t aiming for the heart. I didn’t even stab him, not really. He kind of stabbed himself when he turned.
Tilting her head, Slava glances down meaningfully. Following her look, I startle to see Nolan reaching for his gun. He’s still bleeding heavily, but it looks like he’s determined to take me down with him.
“Oh. Oh!” The heart. She’s telling me to stab his heart. Oh my god! I don’t even know where a human heart is, do I? Why can’t she kill him? She’s the killer here, but all she does is just stand there, smirking. Would she really watch me die without helping me?
Of course she would. Damn these psychos!
It’s a good thing Nolan is a little woozy from the blood loss because otherwise, I’d be dead already. Why am I just standing here like an idiot? As I kick the gun out of range, he tries to grab my leg, but his grip is weak,his fingers leaving bright red marks on my sneakers. Does blood come off shoes easily? I really hope it does, because this is my favorite pair.
Focus, Amy! Just kill the bastard. Wyatt needs help.
Right. Wyatt. I should get Wyatt to a hospital, but I need to make sure Nolan is dead first. One would think he’d croak from all the blood he lost, but no, the asshole is still glaring at me. “Why don’t you just die?!” I yell at him, furious at his stubbornness. Will I really have to kill him? I’m not sure I can.
“Fuck you, bitch.” He spits the words out, along with an alarming amount of blood. Surely he’s about to die, isn’t he? But can I be certain of that? What if I leave him here like this and he somehow survives and years later, when we’re all happy, he comes after us again? I don’t want to go through this again. Getting shot hurts, and seeing Wyatt in pain hurts even more.
The knife trembles in my hand as I crouch by Nolan’s side. “The heart,” I murmur to myself. “Where’s the heart?”
“He’s wearing body armor,” Slava notes. “The blade would go through if you stabbed hard enough, but it will be easier to slice his throat.”
His throat. Okay, I know where that is, at least. It shouldn’t be too hard, should it?
“You won’t dare,” Nolan gurgles. “You’re nothing but a—”
“A fat Black chick,” I interrupt him. “Yeah. I’ve heard that one before, and you know what? I don’t really like it when people insult me, shoot me, or when they hurt the man I love!” With a feral scream I never thought I’d be capable of, I bring the knife down on Nolan’s throat. The wet wheeze that comes from him will surely haunt my nightmares, as will the fountain of blood erupting from the gash. It’s everywhere. On my hands and on my front and on my face and in my hair and the worst part is that’s in my mouth. I feel like I’m about to vomit but my chest hurts too much for it, and also Wyatt needs help, so I don’t have time for such luxuries.
Dropping the knife, I take off the hoodie, wiping off as much of the blood as I can with it before tossing it away. I can still taste copper in mymouth. “Disgusting. So damn disgusting.” After a struggle with the vest straps, I angrily toss the stupid thing on the floor. “Dammit,” I groan, rubbing at my chest. “I thought these things were supposed to protect you.”
“You’re alive, aren’t you?”
Glaring at Slava over my shoulder, I make my way toward Wyatt. It’s just the thought of him that keeps me going now that the danger is over. It’s funny, thinking the danger is over when there’s still one psycho in the room with me, but I honestly don’t think Slava would kill me at this point. I have no idea what is going on in that crazy mind of hers, but it clearly doesn’t involve my death. Hopefully not Wyatt’s, either, because there’s no way I’d be able to fight her off.
“Wyatt?”
Anxiously, my hands hover over Wyatt’s body. He looks so badly hurt that I don’t know where to touch him, afraid of hurting him further. His eyes are so swollen he probably can’t see anything, his hands are still tied behind his back, and there’s blood everywhere. Oh my god, what if his injuries are too serious? People can die from being kicked or beaten! What if he dies?!
No, I can’t think about that right now. I need to stay calm and get him to a doctor. Yes. A hospital. That’s what he needs. Not me weeping or panicking.
Cursing myself for dropping the knife, I look around to find something to cut Wyatt’s ties with, but come up empty-handed. The thought of going back to Nolan’s body just to retrieve the knife almost has me wailing in despair.
Scowling at Slava, I point at the ties. “Can you cut these?”
She scoffs. “What do I look like, a fucking fairy godmother?”
“Oh my god, can you at least pretend to be a normal person for one fucking second?!” Oh, look. I didn’t stutter on the f-word. It felt good yelling it at her, too. Probably not smart, but definitely good. “Come on. You want money? I’m sure Wyatt can pay you whatever you want.”
“Wyatt already owes me a huge favor,” Slava remarks, but crouches next to me. One flick of a blade and Wyatt’s hands are free. I didn’t even see where she pulled the knife from.
“Thanks. Wait, why would Wyatt owe you anything? You brought him here like damned cattle to be slaughtered and you didn’t lift a finger to help me kill Nolan!”
“Ah, but I also didn’t lift a finger to stop you, so you owe me. And since you look about as useful as a one-legged man in a butt-kicking fight, I’ll be collecting from Wyatt.”
I gasp at her audacity. “That’s just— Argh! You’re a— You’re a terrible person.” Damn, why didn’t I just call her a cunt? That’s not such a difficult word to say.
Laughing, Slava pokes Wyatt’s bloodied cheek. “That I am. So is he. And, in spite of what he tried to tell me, so are you. We’re all terrible people here,cupcake. There’s no good left in the world.”
“That’s not true. Maybe if you weren’t such a bitch and actually looked, you’d see the good parts of us and not just the bad parts. But I guess that wouldn’t go well with all that emo look you’ve got going on. Nineties called, by the way. They want it back.” I have no idea why I’m needling her. She could kill me in a million different ways without breaking a sweat and wouldn’t lose a second of sleep over it. Yet, I can’t seem to find my usual polite self when talking to her. Especially since Wyatt is obviously unconscious and I have no clue how I’m going to get him to the car. I’m terrified by how still he is, by all the blood, and by how faint his breaths sound, but he’s breathing and I decide to focus on that.
Gritting my teeth, I apologize to the psycho bitch. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I actually think you look pretty cool. I just… I’m out of my depth here. Will you please help me get Wyatt in the car? I need to take him to the hospital.”
