Page 50 of Chula
I feel blood as it trickles down my cheek when Rafe pulls back right before he head butts me. Lights flash in front of my eyes as the world spins around me. I’m shoved back onto my back, my head bouncing off the pavement, making it spin worse than it was. I feel my clothes being ripped off me, but I can’t move. I feel like my limbs are heavy, and there’s nothing I can do to fight him. I blink my eyes to try and get them to focus, but it’s hard when I see Rafe hovering over me.
“You’re mine, bitch. And I’m going to prove it to you right now!” Vomit burns the back of my throat as I turn my head and throw up. My jeans are ripped down my legs and off my body. Sobs rip from my throat as my legs are lifted and thrown apart. Rafe moves in between my legs, and right before he is about to thrust into me, a shot rings out.
My ears ring as Rafe falls on top of me, warm blood pouring onto my face. I scream now when he’s ripped off me, and more shots are fired. I can’t keep track of what’s happening, and I don’t even try. I lie lost in my own head. Lost in a haze. Just … lost.
I’m ripped off the ground and pulled toward the side of the road, where I’m dropped onto the curb. I can hear sirens in thedistance, but I’m sitting here stone still. Blood slides down my cheeks as my hands shake. I reach up and try to wipe the blood from my face, but it’s not helping. My hands tremble as I turn and throw up one more time.
The sirens get closer when Marco comes over and wraps his arms around me.
“We need to go,” he tells me. I shake my head. There’s no way I can go. There’s no way I can move. I sit here trembling in his arms as the lights flash closer.
“We need to go, Chula.” He says once more, but I can’t move. I don’t know if I’m in shock or what the hell is happening to me, but I can’t fucking move. Marco doesn’t let go of me, just sits here holding me as the police leap out of their cars with guns drawn. They aim them at us, but I still can’t move.
“She’s the victim!” Marco roars as they order him to stand with his hands up. He does as he’s told, but he speaks the whole time.
“I love you, Chula. Just remember that. I love you.” I can’t form words. I can’t think. I’m just numb. I’m just here. What the hell happened? How did all this happen?
Before I know what’s happening, I’m being tackled to the ground, rolled to my stomach, and placed in cuffs.
“I told you she’s the fucking victim, you stupid fucks!” Marco screams louder now. The screams cause my head to pound harder as I’m yanked off the ground and dragged toward a car. When I glance to the left, I see Rafe’s now dead body lying there along with others from my old crew, but Tony, Hock, and the others are nowhere in sight.
I’m read my rights and I vaguely nod my head letting them know that I understand them. I don’t know what we’re being arrested for. I sit in the back of the police car, covered in his blood. In Rafe’s blood. I want to vomit again, but I only gag because there’s nothing left in me.
I’m not even sure how long we sit here while more and more police show up. They’re everywhere and I’m … nowhere. This is all too much. My head is spinning.
The police officer speaks to me, asking me what happened, but I can’t speak. There’s blood on my lips, my face, my hands. I turn my head and look at him through my teary eyes.
“He … he tried to rape me,” I mumble. “He shot him.”
“Who? Who tried to rape you?”
“Rafe.”
“Which one is he?” The man asks.
“Red coat,” I say as I keep my eyes on his. He nods his head.
“Who shot him?”
I open my mouth, but I can’t say it. I can’t say that Marco shot him. Instead, I shrug my shoulders because I’m not entirely sure it was him. I don’t honestly know who it was. I shake my head. Everything is a fucking blur right now. I can hear Marco yelling.
“Is he … is he okay?”
“He’s fine.”
“They hit him with a gun,” I ramble on as the cop watches me.
“Are you hurt? Is this your blood?” he asks. I shake my head. Am I hurt? I don’t know! I don’t know if I am or not.
“I … I don’t know.” He talks more before closing the door and leaving me sitting inside once more. A few minutes later and another cop comes to pull me out of the car. He takes the cuffs off as he leads my still, half-naked body over to an ambulance and helps me. I sit on the stretcher, and they quickly cover me with a blanket before they start asking questions and cleaning my face off.
“Someone bit you?” The EMS asks. I nod my head as she cleans the wounds. It burns, it burns so badly, but I pay no attention to it because I’m so lost in whatever just happened. Tears run down my cheeks as they check me over, noting any marks I have on me.
“You’re going to need stitches in a few places on your face,” the woman tells me. I just nod again.
I watch as the back of the ambulance is slammed closed, and I’m belted onto the gurney. Then the ambulance takes off as sobs shake my body. They start an IV, and I don’t know what the hell they put it in, but I almost instantly stop crying, and my eyes flutter. I don’t want to fall asleep, so I focus on the spot on the ceiling until we make it to the ER.
Once we’re inside, the doctor comes to check me out, and they do what they need to do. They ask a million questions that I have no answers for. There’s nothing else that needs to be said. They did what they did, all of them. Marco killed for me. The way I killed for him. I reach for the small waste basket and throw up onemore time. The pain rips through my chest as I heave without anything else coming out.
