by Emma Creed
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.
"Love Jessie...” I swallow the thick blood clogging in the back of my throat. "I need you to do that for me, okay? I need you to let yourself… love."
"Hay. Help’s coming." His voice sounds weak, and the fight’s beginning to drain out of his eyes. Then my heart breaks when he loses it all together. My pain is starting to ease, and I guess, in my case that isn’t a good thing.
"Promise me!" I battle against the urge to shut my eyes, knowing they won't open again if I let them close. They’re so heavy, I won’t be able to fight against them for much longer.
"Sure thing, pretty girl," he whispers, nodding his head and treating me one last time to the smile that I’d move hell and earth to see. One of his tears spills on to my cheek, I feel it roll along my skin and I smile too, because for that short moment he’s mine. I just wish I could keep him.
I don’t fight against my eyes anymore, I let them fall. His face is the only vision I want to remember. I don't worry about what will happen next, or where I’m going. I just pray that wherever it is, I get to keep that with me. I cling on to it so tight, focusing on his blue eyes and handsome smile instead of the fact that my agony has vanished completely. And as the painful cries that scream out my name fade further and further away. I don't fight to go back to him. I leave him behind. Letting myself slip away, because death has to be easier than letting him go again.
I’ve always thought it was a cliché when people tell you everything moves in slow motion during a tragedy. And yet here, watching everything play out in front of me, that’s exactly what happens. The armed men bursting in the room, Jessie’s terror-filled eyes locking on mine.
All of it happened so slowly that my head will never let me forget a single detail of my own horror movie, the low, dull thumping of my heart playing as its soundtrack. I’ll see Hayley every time I close my eyes from now on, jumping in front of me and falling to the ground.
My ears still ring from the sound of the bullets when I realize what she’s done, and everything around me becomes a silent panic. Jessie looks wild as he runs forward and falls in front of her, grabbing her up and pulling her on to him. I look up at the other men in the room, and they all seem a lot less scary with devastation hanging on their hard faces. It shows that they’re human. They watch with me as Jessie rocks Hayley's body, willing for her to stay with him. I can’t hear what he’s saying, the shrill, high pitched sound of bullets are still hurting my head.
The sound leaves as quickly as it came, and his cries are the first thing I hear, calling her name, begging her to come back.
Even before her hand falls from his face, everyone in the room including me knows that it’s too late for an ambulance. But Jessie refuses to give up, dragging her limp hand back up and holding it to his face.
“No, Hay, don’t you leave me.” His eyes drown in tears when her hand lifelessly slides away again. “Hayley. Please don’t,” he pleads, sounding like a scared child.
He keeps rocking her, pressing his lips tight against the parting on the top of her head. Speaking in soft whispers, and begging for her to wake up. And I watch his pain through my own tears.
Suddenly everyone parts out of the way, an older man with white hair makes his way through them. Stopping still when his eyes fall on Jessie and Hayley like he’s jus
t grown roots. His forehead furrows deeper, and his eyes turn glassy. I realize I’m looking at Hayley’s Dad.
It seems like hours before anyone moves and it’s the tall, long-haired one who steps up first. He walks slowly towards Jessie, and crouches beside him. His hand reaches out to squeeze his bare shoulder and his voice crackles through the unbearable silence…
“Jess. Come on man, you gotta let her go.” Jessie doesn’t respond, he just keeps rocking. Eyes tranced and focused forward. “Jessie,” the man speaks again.
“I... I can’t.” Jessie shakes his head, his voice broken, and his lips refusing to move from Hayley's hair. The torture in his eyes tears a hole through my chest.
“Come on. We got to move man,” the guy tries again, but Jessie doesn’t budge. I want to reach out to him, but I’m still tied up and all I can do is sit and watch him fall apart right in front of me.
He kisses her temple and closes his eyes. Inhaling deep like he’s absorbing her into his memories.
“I’m so sorry… so fuckin’ sorry, Hay,” he says through his tears, rolling her away from his body and placing her gently on to the ground.
“Sorry.”
The tall guy tries to help him up but Jessie pushes him away. I can’t look when Jessie lifts up on to his knees, throws back his head, and a painful noise rips right from the bottom of his throat. Not a cry nor a scream, but something in-between. Like the howl of a wounded wolf.
He slumps back down, his arms hanging over his propped-up knees, and his head dropping between them. Breathless and destroyed.
Nobody seems to be moving, everyone still struck with shock. Seconds pass into minutes and Jessie pushes his trembling fingers through his hair, leaving a blood-stained trail in his sandy-blonde strands.
I fight against my restraints, desperate to get to him. Wanting to wrap him up in my arms and show him some comfort, but the ropes that hold me won’t budge. I look up from him and notice the president badge Hayley's Dad is wearing on his jacket as he moves closer, His eyes not moving from Hayley's body and the lifeless look in her eyes matches his own.
Jessie crawls back to her and hangs over her body.
“Wake up,” his gravelly voice begs. He grabs at her shoulders and shakes her hard, his voice turning angry. “Wake the fuck up, Hay… Wake up, right now,” he demands, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand. “Please…” he eventually whispers, sounding defeated.
“She’s gone, son.” The older man leans down, tapping Jessie on his back, his eyes still not moving from Hayley.
“No.” Jessie shakes his head then looks over to the dead man who killed her.
Like someone just flicked a switch inside his head, he’s on his feet, all the hurt in his tear-drenched eyes flipping into rage. With nostrils flared, and his jaw clenched tight. Jessie’s lips scowl fury as he charges over to the body of our capturer. His boot smashing into the dead man’s face, and then his stomach.
“Fuckin. Piece. Of Bastard. Scum,” Jessie growls through his teeth, continuing to kick the ever-living shit into the lifeless body of the man who’s just taken Hayley's life right in front of us.
One of the bigger guys try to take hold of him, but Jessie shoves him away, telling him to get the fuck off. The guy backs down immediately, holding out the palms of his hands, and Jessie moves his attention to the nearest wall. I flinch when I hear his fists crunch against the solid brick, and cry when he doesn’t stop, not even with blood dripping from his knuckles.
No one tries to stop him, all of them letting him go on hurting himself.
“Why fuckin’ her? Huh? Fuckin’ Bastards,” he screams at the ceiling, kicking his boot against the wall now instead of his fists. Long-haired guy steps up to him again, this time wrapping his arms around Jessie’s shoulders and pulling him back. Jessie fights it at first, but eventually, he gives in. His body sagging with defeat against the man holding him.
“I swear I’ma kill every fuckin’ one of them,” he cries out through his tears. “I will. Hayley, they all fucking pay for this,” he calls out to her as the guy backs him out of the building, and most of the other men follow behind them.
Hayley’s Dad still stands over her, haunted as he stares down, and I suddenly wish it was me lying in her place.
“Um Prez?” a voice speaks up, I’ve been so focused on him that I haven’t noticed anyone left in the room with us. This guy has a thick beard and kind eyes, and is crouched beside the body of the man who killed Hayley. He looks up with a confused look on his face and holds something out in his hands. Hayley's dad snatches it, then studies it hard, and when his stone hard face slowly twists and meets with mine, I know I’m in trouble.
“She comes with us,” he orders, his eyes fixed on me as he speaks. I glance at Hayley, and my chest tightens. That bullet was meant for me. I’d known her little over a month, and she’d taken that bullet for me.
Why?
A face I do recognize, Nyx, comes from behind me and unties the rope releasing my hands from behind my back. Then taking a firm grip of my arm, he drags me on to my feet and forces me across the room.
I turn my head and take one last look at my friend. My only friend. And the sole reason I’m alive… at least for now.
Nyx pulls me out the door, but I just managed to catch the older man drop to his knees and scoop Hayley into his arms. Her dad’s whole body shakes when he thinks he’s alone, and finally, he lets the tears he’s held back escape from his tortured eyes.
“You might wanna close your eyes,” Nyx whispers, with a tiny hint of sympathy in his tone. But I don’t take his advice. What could be worse than what I’ve just seen? He keeps us walking towards a black transporter van, and I soon regret ignoring his advice when I see the bodies scattered, their blood staining the ground, seeping through the cracks in the earth and pooling into thick red puddles. Limbs are distorted, throats slit open, and bullets wedged between skulls.
The smell of blood causes my stomach to rise to my throat, it makes me retch, and my vomit spills on to the floor in front of me. Nyx waits until I’m finished before pushing me towards the van. I don’t struggle or fight. I have nothing left. Most of the men are sat waiting on their bikes, and I can hear Jessie’s angry voice
“Back the fuck off Troj, I told you I'm fine… I can ride.” I look back over to where he’s shrugging off the long-haired guy.
“It's okay let him be,” the man with the thick beard nods, and Troj releases Jessie tapping his back. Jessie throws his leg over his bike and fires it up, revving the throttle and skidding off. Leaving a cloud of dust around everyone behind him. I scramble into the back of the boarded-out van and back up against the wall. Nyx slams the door shut and I’m left all alone, just me, the blackness, and a heart that still beats, even if it is completely weighed down by guilt.
I’ll never see Hayley again, after this I probably won’t ever see my mom again either. I cry for Hayley, for all the things she will never have the chance to do. I cry for Jessie because his heart is broken and there is nothing I can do to bring her back for him. Then selfishly I cry for myself, for the friend I've lost and the impossible choices I’m now going to have to make.
It seems like a long journey, and I’m almost thankful when the van stops and the doors open.
“Please, Nyx, tell me what's going on?” I ask him when he grabs my wrists and pulls me out, we’re back at the Dirty Souls compound, and he leads me inside the clubhouse. I’m not surprised that he doesn’t respond, and I don’t bother to fight as he leads me through the foyer and into a small bar room.
Hayley’s Dad is already there waiting for me, eyes so full of hate that I swear he could use them alone to kill me. Nyx puts enough pressure on my shoulders for my ass hit the chair that’s placed in front of him.
“What did they want with you?” The president wastes no time getting to the point, and before I answer him, I close my eyes, scroll back in my memory to the outside of the warehouse. All those bodies, and none of them were hi
s. Subconsciously, I’d searched for it, prayed it would be amongst the dead, but it wasn’t.
It means he’s still out there. That he could hurt my mom, for all I know he could be hurting her right now. So I keep my lips tightly together and hope Jessie shows up real soon to help me out of this mess.
“My daughter just took a bullet that had your name on it,” he tells me, shoving a photo in my face. It’s one of me, taken a few weeks ago, leaving school. I remember the day well, it had been the day Hayley had met my mom.
“They had this photo of you. You were the target, not my girl.” His voice trembles a little before anger takes it over again. He takes a fist full of my hair and I scream when he yanks my head back.
“You better start talking, missy, or you'll force me to take drastic measures, and you really don’t want that to happen.”
I shut my eyes and keep my mouth shut. I have to hold out for as long as possible for Mom’s sake. Jessie must know I would never do anything to intentionally put Hayley in danger, he will come and explain. Everything will be okay.
“Come on, Prez, you been through enough. Let’s leave this shit to Jessie. Nyx get him a drink,” the guy with the beard and kind eyes speaks up. And the grip in my hair loosens so quickly that I fall off the chair and hit the ground with a hard thud.
“Take her downstairs. She can wait for Jessie down there,” Hayley’s Dad orders, marching out of the room and leaving the man with the beard to help me to my feet.
He stays silent as he walks me back through the foyer and then opens a door that leads to steep, downward stairs. I don’t want to go down there. It looks dark and damp, and I have an unnerving feeling that I might not come back up from there alive. The man gestures with his head for me to go down first, and the sheer size of him tells me no amount of struggling would get me away from him. So, taking hold of the wooden banister, I step down the narrow staircase into darkness.