Don't Let Me Die: A gripping psychological thriller

by Alex Sinclair

  Shaw raises both hands up and down to usher me back into my seat. I realize I am on my feet. “Sorry,” I let out.

  “Nothing to be sorry for. This is why we need to keep moving forward to that moment. If we can find that memory again, I truly believe you will learn to forgive yourself for the very event you had no control over. What happened is not your fault and never will be.”

  I sit down and run my hands through my tangled hair. I resist the temptation to bury my face away, but there’s no other place to hide away from Shaw’s eyes.

  I start rocking in the chair as a different set of eyes begin to gaze at the back of my head. They belong to him.

  “Tell me, then: why do I feel like everything that happened was my fault?”

  Shaw doesn’t answer. Instead, she stands and guides me out of the chair and over to the couch. She sits me down and does something no doctor in this place will ever do, something that takes me by complete surprise. She hugs me.

  I want to resist at first and push her away. It’s how I am now. But I can’t stop everything from coming out. I burst into tears and cry more than I have in the entire time I’ve been here. I moan into Shaw’s cardigan, clutching at it for security like a newborn in the arms of its mother.

  “It’s okay. Let it all out, Emma.”

  I melt into Doctor Shaw’s hug. After a long moment, I stop, wipe my eyes, and apologize for crying. She reassures me that I can cry like that whenever I want to and that it is normal.

  After a glass of water and a few tissues, I’m ready for our session.

  “Let’s pick up from our last talk. I want to hear what happened after the police left.”

  I shut my eyes as I think back to the break-in.

  Thirty-Three

  Before.

  “This is such bullshit,” Darren says to me as he paces up and down our living room. I’m sitting on our couch in a half-lit room, while my husband tries not to lose his temper with the world.

  Only a few minutes prior, the police were sitting opposite me asking questions about the man who broke into our house with the knowledge that we were home. They didn’t believe that this person could be Karlo, despite the recent threats on our family.

  “How could it not be?” I asked the officer.

  The officer sighed at me like I was the one who had ruined his night. “There has been a string of break-ins in the area over the past month. We believe this was just another break-in and nothing more.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, ma’am, this man ran away the second he realized you were home. Plus, he took one of your computers.”

  Our laptop in the kitchen was missing. It was the only thing in the entire house unaccounted for. “We didn’t witness him take it.”

  “But it’s not here, is it? We believe you interrupted this guy and scared him off before he could steal much else.”

  “Whatever,” I said, sounding like my son.

  The officers went to leave. Before they headed off, I asked them the one question burning in my mind. “Will you at least check out where Karlo was tonight?”

  “We’ll see what we can find out, ma’am.” The officer nodded.

  I come back to the present as Darren groans with his hands covering his face. “Can’t we have one night where nothing happens?”

  I don’t have an answer for him. I feel the same. It’s like we are prisoners in our own home. “What are we going to do?” I ask.

  Darren shrugs and lets his hands slip back to his side. “What can we do? This whole thing is a fucking mess. All I can say is thank God Frank wasn’t here.”

  I nod as my stomach turns, thinking about Frank having to witness what had happened. My head drops down as something clicks in my brain. “We can’t tell him about tonight.”

  “What?” Darren asks. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes,” I say, lifting my head up. “Think about it. He’ll be terrified of his own home. I know I am. Imagine how a fourteen-year-old boy will handle this.”

  Darren rubs at the scruff on his chin. “Fine. I guess it makes sense.”

  “We just need to keep it together in front of him,” I say. “Don’t let him figure out that anything bad happened.”

  “Agreed,” Darren says. “But tomorrow, I’m taking him down to the range. It’s time he learned how to defend himself.”

  I don’t argue. Instead, I stand and ask, “Can I learn too?”

  Darren and I climb in bed so late I don’t bother to check what the time is. We make sure the doors and windows are locked before we set the alarm system for the first time in three months. I almost forgot we had the expensive addition to the home.

  As I settle into bed, I feel like we have moved inside of a fallout shelter and are waiting for the bombs to drop. The constant state of alert currently coursing through my veins has me on edge.

  All my brain can think about is the man running through our backyard and over the fence. I described him to the police as an average height and build wearing a black trench coat and a black mask. Karlo fit the man’s build based on the information we had gathered from his Facebook profile. All I can hope now is the police follow up with Karlo, but I have little faith they will do the right thing.

  Darren scrolls through his phone. From a glimpse, I can recognize that he is still working on business matters. It seems these days like he never did anything else. His hobbies had taken a back seat to the job. He probably spent fifteen hours a day working if you included times like now.

  I snuggle up to him and fall into his chest. He opens his arm and lets me into the perfect spot. I can feel his warmth keeping me safe. It’s the only place in the world that can do that in an instant.

  “Why don’t you take a break, honey, and put the phone down?” I ask.

  “I can’t. I’ve got too much work to prepare for next week.”

  “I know you do, but you need to take it easy. With the lawsuit and the contract, you are taking on so much stress. I’m worried it’s going to give you a heart attack or something.”

  “Heart attack? How old do you think I am?”

  “You know what I mean. You’ve been burning the candle at both ends for too long now. I understand it’s hard, maybe even impossible to push work to the back of your mind right now, but you have to at least try. I don’t want to have to face a future without you.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” he says. “We’re going to beat this lawsuit and take that contract back. I’m not letting a couple of jerks ruin what I’ve busted my back to build.”

  I smile up at him. “We’ll get through this. I promise. One way or another, we will move forward and think about this time as a tough moment and nothing else.”

  “That easy, huh?” he says with a smile.

  “That easy.”

  Darren puts his phone down and kisses me. Before I know it, we’re back to where we left off before the noise ruined our night.

  Thirty-Four

  In the morning, I wake up to Darren snoring away. I decide to get up without disturbing him. He needs the sleep more than I do.

  After a quick shower, I head downstairs and start tidying up. I’ve let the house go to hell in the last week. Housework has been the least of my priorities lately, but now I can no longer ignore the problem.

  An hour goes by as I take care of the mess around the kitchen first. I fall into one of the seats at the counter when I finish and decide to do the rest of the house later in the day.

  As I start to make some breakfast, a car pulls into our driveway. I quickly check through the curtains as my heart leaps out of my chest. Frank is being dropped off after staying the night at Douglas’s house. I can see Douglas’s mom in the driver’s seat of her minivan. I silently pray she doesn’t want to chat and let out a thank you when she backs the car away.

  Frank comes in the door, using his key. I greet him with a firm hug, not bothering to read his body language first to determine whether he wants one or not.

  “Okay, Mo
m,” he says, pushing me off. “Good to see you too.”

  “I missed you. Did you have fun?”

  “Yeah, it was okay.” He dumps his bag down on the clean counter.

  “That’s nice. Have you eaten? Let me fix you something.”

  “Mom,” he says with both palms raised, “calm down. I’ve already had breakfast.”

  “Okay, sorry. Just making sure my boy grows up strong and healthy.”

  Frank tries to escape my embarrassing ways despite no one else being there. “Where’s Dad?” he asks to change the subject. I absorb the typical favoritism coming from my son. He loves his father more than he will ever love me. I guess they share a bond that we’ll never have.

  “He’s sleeping in. Can you believe it?”

  “No way. Dad taking time off. What’s next?”

  “Well, funny you should ask. You father has a pleasant surprise for you today.”

  Frank stares at me as if I’m about to ruin his day. It’s a fair enough assumption, considering he is supposed to be grounded.

  “It’s nothing bad. In fact, I think you might be more than thrilled about it.”

  “What is it?” he asks with an overly eager smile. He sits up straighter than I’ve seen him do in a long time.

  “Your father is taking you down to the range.”

  Frank’s eyes light up. “You’re shitting me.”

  “Language, Frank.”

  “Sorry, Mom. I can’t believe it. Is he really?”

  “Yep. As soon as he’s up and ready, you’ll be heading down there to practice.”

  “Hell yeah,” Frank says as he picks up his cell to no doubt tell his friends.

  “But be aware: this is not only for a bit of fun. This is a dangerous thing you are about to learn about.”

  “I know,” he says. “I won’t ever screw around. I promise.”

  I could make Frank clean his room without a single complaint right now. He’s been bugging Darren since he was twelve to go to the range.

  “Good boy,” I say. “Now, are you sure you’ve had enough to eat?”

  “Plenty, thanks. Douglas’s mom made us pancakes for breakfast.”

  “Wow. Lucky you. I was just going to slap together some toast and a glass of juice. Remind me to thank his parents next time we see them. I think I owe them a bottle of wine.”

  Darren comes down the stairs as the light on our coffeemaker flicks from red to green. It’s like his brain knew when the precious liquid would be ready to consume.

  “Hey, Dad,” Frank says too eagerly. “How did you sleep? Did you and Mom enjoy the movie?”

  Darren half smiles as he looks to me. “He knows, doesn’t he?”

  “Sorry, it slipped out. As you can tell, Frank is quite excited for the range.”

  “Is that right, son?”

  Frank nods his head more times than needed. I haven’t seen him this keen to do something with either one of us in a long time.

  “Well, I don’t know if I should take you or not,” Darren says as he crosses his arms.

  “Please, Dad. You’ve got to.”

  “Are you going to stop sneaking out of the house late at night?”

  “Yes, I promise. Never again.”

  Darren purses his lips for a moment. “Then I guess you better go get ready.”

  Frank lets out a quiet cheer and rushes off.

  I smile while I make breakfast.

  “What?” Darren asks.

  “Nothing. Just you’re a big softy.”

  Darren scratches at the back of his head with a coy smile. “We’ve had a tough week—all of us. I think it’ll do everyone some good to let their frustrations out.”

  “So you don’t mind me coming along, then?”

  “Mind? Hell, I think it would be hot seeing you firing a gun.”

  “Shut up,” I joke. “But in all seriousness, I want to learn. With the threats and that guy last night, I don’t feel safe anymore.”

  Darren moves closer to me and wraps his arms around my waist as I fry up some eggs. “We’ll push through this, honey. You’ll see.”

  After breakfast, Frank practically drags us out the door. We take Darren’s truck down to the range. When we head inside the building I’ve never even considered visiting before, it’s like I’ve strolled into a different world. In the shop, I find more rifles, pistols, and shotguns than my eyes can handle. The store is covered in posters from manufacturers and pro-gun messages.

  I don’t normally like to be around guns of any kind, but now, there is a need for it. Knowing that Darren has them close by and knows how to use them makes me feel safer.

  We head through to the range with Darren acting as our supervisor. He is the only licensed one among us. Frank will no doubt sign up for a future license after today. I even start to consider getting one myself but recognize I’ll never go through with it.

  Darren runs through some basics with us before we go out to the shooting area of the range. I don’t think this is required of him, but I’m glad he is taking this so seriously.

  We take a slot down the far end, away from three shooters who look professional to me. Darren obviously doesn’t want to distract them.

  He goes through a few additional safety drills now that we are out on the range. I have to keep taking the earmuffs he gave me off to be able to hear him. Of course, this allows the constant sound of bullets being fired in the room to penetrate my ears. I never realized how loud guns are.

  I watch as Frank takes his first shot. He misses the close target by a mile, but after a few magazines worth of Darren’s input, he starts to hit the mark. When his bullet slams through the sheet marked with a human body, I hope to myself that Frank will never have to take another person’s life.

  “You’re up, honey.”

  I twist to Darren, semi-confused. “Sorry?”

  “Your turn to shoot.”

  “Right. What do I do?”

  Darren goes over the same advice as he did with Frank. He stands behind me and squares me up in preparation to fire. “Try not to be too rigid, but also don’t go too floppy. You want the gun to feel like an extension of your arm. Now take a deep breath and, once you’ve let the air out of your lungs, lightly squeeze the trigger.”

  I take in a lot of oxygen. I can sense my heart beating like a drum in my chest. I don’t understand why I’m nervous, but I am. I exhale everything I’ve got by closing my eyes for a moment. When I open them, I squeeze. The gun fires, kicking back in my hands, but I don’t lose my grip on it. I’m stunned to see my first shot has managed to hit the outer section of the target.

  “I got it,” I say with wide eyes.

  “Don’t sound so surprised. You listened to what I told you. Now, let’s see if you can do that again.”

  We spend the next few hours taking turns shooting. Darren gives us a few demonstrations of his own. He can hit the target every time without delay. His shots stay close together, all scoring the body in the middle of the chest. He could kill anyone in seconds. Karlo, or whoever it was Victor sent our way, had better watch their back.

  When we arrive back home, Frank is over the moon about our trip. I never imagined going to the range would bring us all together as a family. The idea makes me chuckle, but I can’t argue with it.

  Frank naturally heads for his room, while Darren and I decide cuddle on the couch and watch a movie. He promised me in the truck that he would take the rest of the day off from the business. I almost feel guilty for making him do it, but he needs the break. Our marriage also needs this. Things haven’t been exactly stable before or during this recent chapter in our lives.

  “Do you want some popcorn?” I ask Darren as he loads up a selection of movies to choose from.

  “Why not?” he says as he puts his feet up on the coffee table. “Can you grab a beer too?”

  “Beer and popcorn coming up,” I say. I don’t mind being the one to make all the food and drinks most of the time.

  I open the fridge and pul
l out two beers. I don’t regularly drink the stuff, but today I’m doing a lot of things that I usually wouldn’t. When I turn toward the pantry, that’s when I see it out of the corner of my eye. It’s sitting there on the kitchen counter. One of the beers falls from my hand and shatters all over the tiles. Glass fragments scatter across the room, followed by the sharp odor of the beer.

  “You okay?” Darren shouts from the living room.

  “Darren,” I manage to choke out. I want to scream, but my voice feels weak.

  “What is it?” he asks as he rushes in.

  My spare hand shakes as I point to the laptop sitting on the counter—the laptop that the man stole. There had been nothing but empty counter when we left for the range.

  He had been back in our house while we were out. I think about Frank upstairs all alone and run for the steps. Darren is close behind, realizing the same thing.

  Thirty-Five

  “Frank!” I yell out as I reach his room. Darren is right on my heels. We don’t wait for our son to respond. Instead, we barge into his room a second later to find him sitting on his bed, half-stunned by our sudden arrival.

  “What the hell?” he asks as we rush inside and check for signs of an intruder.

  “Are you okay?” I ask him as I sit down on his bed and stroke his face.

  “Yeah, I’m okay. Why are you guys smashing into my room like this?”

  I start to tell him but stop with an open mouth. I don’t want to freak him out. “We thought we heard you yelling out for help. Sorry, honey. We didn’t mean to—”

  “What the hell is this?” Darren asks as he lifts a corner of Frank’s sheets that are poorly hiding what I did not want to ever discover in my son’s room.

  “I can explain,” Frank says as we stare at what can only be a box of marijuana. I count over a dozen joints rolled up, sitting inside a small container. There is more weed wrapped in plastic, along with some papers. There’s enough to send Frank to prison by my calculation.