Page 48 of Grace's Redemption
Nine
GRACE
As the truck pulled away, I rolled onto my back.
My right ear hurt like hell.
I touched it and groaned.
The gunshots had ruptured my eardrum and my head felt like it was going to explode.
I looked up, through the tree branches.
Mase brought me here when we were kids. He told me nothing bad could ever happen.
“Fuck.” I said as I pressed my hand to the bullet wound in my side. The bleeding had slowed down. I reached underneath me. The bullet went straight through.
Mase shot me.
I lay in the dirt.
I held my hand in front of my face. It was covered with a slick black substance. When I heard nothing for a while, I sat up. I crawled and scooted over to the tree, the same nook we’d sat in together so many times. It shielded me from the street.
I should feel some sense of relief. Mase couldn’t kill me, but he might as well have.
I was alone.
I had nowhere to go. He may have saved me, but essentially he threw me out, left me bleeding and alone.
I dropped my head.
I was so stupid. I actually thought up until the moment he shot me, he would choose me.
He didn’t.
He shot me instead.
“Fuck him, fuck Papa Scott and the SouthEast Dragons, too.” A maniacal laugh escaped my lips.
I was pissed and in pain, but I needed to get myself together. I had to get out of here.
I pushed myself up off the ground. I pressed my hand to my side and grunted. I tested my legs and they seemed to work.
I stumbled down the hill and traversed the path back to the house.
I slipped through the back gate on the property and around the side to the garage.
Mase said to take my bike, but I didn’t think I could stay on it. I’d lost too much blood and my fingers were numb.
I grabbed the first aid kit, and threw it into the truck.
I opened the center console and the gun was still there. I pulled it out and sat it on my lap.
I looked in the back. My duffle bag and the money sat behind the passenger seat.
I breathed a sign of relief.
I pushed the button to open the garage door and started the engine.
