Page 87 of Dollhouse

Looking back at the body, I recognize him instantly.

He is… he was one of the bodyguards Eli left behind to stay with me the other day while he went to work. He was supposed to take me with but left before I even woke, and I didn’t question him about it.

I hadn’t talked to the guard, but his face tells me he’s young and regardless, I instantly feel bad because I know it’s my fault. Everything is my fault.

This is yet another dead body because of me.

I wipe my bloodied hand on my pretty white dress and close his eyes, seeing that his throat is slit, and he looks gutted.

Oh god. Bile rises in my throat and this time I can’t swallow it down.

I climb onto my knees and vomit everything that’s in my stomach, including the tequila which burns on the way back up.

With slow and careful movements, I pull myself out of the dumpster and manage to stand on my bare feet.

My eyes wander around me to take in my location, it’s dark, and in the distance, I can hear the sirens of fire trucks.

It’s night, but the streetlights are bright enough to cast a glow in the alley I’m standing in so I can see.

The mystery fucker said to be outside. I’m outside. Now what?

“Tate! Stop!” I hear King’s roar and look up to see him in the window.

Fuck!

I can’t risk anything happening to anyone else, so I do what I do best, and I run.

He’s yelling my name behind me and when I look back, I see he’s made it out the window. He’s seen the body in the dumpster and that slowed him down enough for me to run further away. He only allowed himself to look at the body for a second though because he’s right behind me and my short legs and bare feet are no match for his long legs.

He's yelling for me to stop, and I don’t know why considering they’re the ones that decided to turn me over.

A black rusted painter’s van with no windows pulls up at the end of the alley. I can hear King’s boots hitting the ground as he gets closer to me. I’m just about to reach the open side door of the van when I feel a burning sensation rip through my left side, stopping me in my tracks as I let out a roar of my own.

The bastard shot me.

King fucking shot me!

I feel the warm liquid on my left side, I don’t need to look down to know that it’s blood that’s pouring out of me.

I turn to face him, ready to scold him for shooting me when his fist connects with my face, rattling my brain and making me lose my balance.

I stumble backwards, King is shooting at the van and yelling, I can see his lips move but with the ringing in my ears I can’t hear what he’s saying.

The van behind me must be shooting at him because I see him keep moving to dodge something.

It happens in a flash.

A bullet hits him in the chest, and he falls backwards, “No! King!” I’m screaming, my legs give out and I’m trying to crawl toward him, but I can’t reach him. I don’t know why, but I want to go to him.

My vision is blurry, my head swimming and light.

I’m screaming and crying for King and trying to get to him, then suddenly I become weightless.

I’m being picked up and carried bridal style just as white spots are clouding my vision, then the darkness takes over.

This feels familiar.

Ifucking trusted her.

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