Page 46 of Lost Soul

“You really like him, don’t you?” I smile back at her.

“I know your gonna tell me he’s bad for me and I’m not gonna tell you that you're wrong. But I see through all that. To me he’s a sweet guy, with beautiful eyes, and a smile you would throw yourself off a cliff for.

I saw the way he took care of you when you were in trouble and the way he looks out for you. Sure, he’s a little rough around the edges, but I’ve seen that he’s capable of some real good too.” Maddy’s really smiling now, and it doesn’t sting my chest as hard as I thought it would.

“Yeah I really like him,” she admits in her own totally goofy style. Tears well in my eyes, forcing me to work harder at freeing my hands so I can wipe them away before she sees.

My emotions aren’t at all what I’d expected. There’s no anger, no jealousy, just relief. Relief that someone else has seen who Jessie is beneath the leather cut he wears, if Maddy sees past the blood that stains his hands. Jessie might just get that happily ever after I’ve always wanted for him.

Deep down I’ve always known it wouldn’t be with me, I just hadn’t been ready to let myself believe it. It’s going to kill me to watch, but just like Maddy said, a girl would toss herself off a cliff to see that smile on his face.

I hear more bikes arrive outside, and the sound of a scuffle and gunshots causes the man watching over us to tuck his phone back inside his pocket and make his way back over.

“Either one of you bitches make a sound, I swear I will shoot you both in the face,” he warns, pointing his gun right at us. My hands are loose now, and I grip at the rope to stop it from falling to the floor. I know that the commotion outside is the Dirty Souls, and I try so hard not to let the relief show on my face. The door at the back of the room smashes open, and Jessie storms through it like a bull released from the chute, he’s followed closely by Squealer, Screwy, and Troj.

The man’s face drops when he realizes there’s no sign of his brothers, he’s outnumbered and for a dreadful moment, I think he will turn and fire at them. But unless he’s a cracking shot, the building is too big, and they are too far away for him to make a target.

He has nowhere to run, which I guess is why he turns back around to face us, his gun now pointing directly at Maddy's head. She’s defenseless still tied to her chair. I hear the feral roar that comes out of Jessie. It bellows right from his soul and saws through the center of my heart like a serrated knife.

I look between him and Maddy, their eyes fused together. Reflecting each other’s fear, and I can’t let myself even imagine what losing her would do to him. He’ll blame himself somehow.

I don’t see a man anymore, I see that twelve-year boy that Daddy brought home, a lost soul about to lose another person he loves.

Maddy could bring so much to his life, things I never could. Love, happiness, and all without consequences. He needs her as much as he needs the cut on his back, and with her he could have both.

There’s no way I’m gonna let this son of a bitch pointing a gun at her take that away from him. When I hear the gun click and watch his finger pull back on the trigger. There is no choice to make, no decision for me to contemplate. I love Jessie.

I launch off my chair and jump in front of Maddy’s body, attempting to shield her from the bullet that painfully rings through my ears as it leaves the barrel.

Concern that I’ve left it too late to save her vanishes when I feel a sharp burn scorch through my skin from the bullet. I hit the concrete floor with a thud, and despite my whole body throbbing with pain, I still have to touch the wound on the right side of my chest to check that it’s real. My hand turns sticky, and I panic when I struggle to catch my next breath. More guns let off, bullets ricocheting from the steel beams, and I pray that Maddy is safe from them.

"Someone call a fucking ambulance," I hear Jessie, his loud footsteps thundering towards me, and he falls on to his knees, crouching over my body, replacing my blood-drenched hands with his own. The pressure he puts against my wound hurts like hell, but I don't make a sound. Just watch as he pulls them away again, and holds them up in front of his face. They’re shaking, and his eyes widen as he stares at his blood-soaked palms.

His beautiful blue eyes are frosted with panic, and his chest heaves. He looks at me helplessly, but only for a few seconds before he pulls himself together.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he shrugs out of his cut and tosses it. Then pulling off his T-shirt he scrunches it into a ball, pressing it tightly against my wound. He pulls me up into his solid chest, and there I feel safe.

His white T-shirt turns red as my blood-soaks its way through the cotton. I try to speak, but the coppery taste of blood in the back of my throat chokes me, stopping any words from forming.

"Don't try and speak, Hay, it's gonna be okay. Help’s coming. Just hang with me a minute." He seems to be getting further and further away, yet I still feel his firm grip, and his heart erratically thump against my body.

"No… No don't you fucking leave me. Not you too. You hear me, Hay. HAY. Don’t leave me." His voice is distant, but I hear how desperate it is, and it makes me choke all the more. He’s crying, and I want to comfort him, to hug him back and tell him that everything is gonna be okay. Exactly like I’d wanted to when I was ten years old and Daddy first brought him home to me. But I can't speak. In fact, I wonder if I’m even breathing.

I find some strength in determination. I can’t give up, because he has to know it’s gonna be okay, I’m not a little girl anymore, this time I will tell him.

"It's okay," I manage to force out, my voice unrecognizable. Jessie’s rough palm strokes the hair away from my face, probably smearing it with blood, but I doubt that’s gonna matter for much longer.

"Sssshhh don't speak." His chin rests on the top of my head and he rocks me in his arms like a baby.

"Don't worry. I got you, you’re gonna be fine," he assures me. I’m not sure if he’s trying to convince himself or me, but it isn’t working much on either of us. I shake my head, but don't think it actually moves.

"It would always have been you," I whisper, words starting to come a little easier, my hand reaches up to cup his face. I’m not sure how I manage it, but I’m grateful to feel the prickles on his jaw.

"I would never have wanted anyone else," I let him know.

"Hay. Will you do as you’re told for once in your fucking life? Stop trying to talk."

I let myself look up into his eyes again, they’re full of tears, no more anger. Just raw pain, masked by a beautiful, brave face that’s put on for my benefit.

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