Color Her Red

by Crystal Shaw

  “Your baby?” She looks angered. “I don’t give a fuck about your baby.” She hesitates and looks at the gun in her hands. “I don’t even know if he would care.” She stands up straight and points the gun at her head moving the barrel in small circles. “He’s crazy. Did you know that?” She laughs and points the gun at me. She emphasizes each word, “He. Is. Insane.” She laughs again, a foolish laugh with her mouth wide open. “He’s constantly giving me mixed signals.” She takes another step closer to me, a wider step. “He may have told you that he wanted the baby, but he doesn’t really want a baby. That’s not what my Thomas wants.” Her eyes become large, digging deep into my heart, twisting it in agonizing pain, and a vicious smile appears over her face.

  “Please don’t hurt me.” My face is wet with tears and my legs feel weak. My breathing is quickening, I feel like I am going to pass out.

  “Why shouldn’t I? You’ve taken what was mine. You hurt me more than you can know.” She takes another step and I move backwards; my back is against the wall.

  “When I saw your picture, you holding him. I was supposed to be holding him. I wasn’t gone that long," she sneers and her eyes narrow at me. She waves the gun in the air carelessly. She has a deadly look on her face and her voice rises, “I was getting better for him. And you stole him out from under me.”

  She grins a wild demonic smile and moves towards me.

  I feel her breath on my face and panic. I throw my fists at her, landing hard on her chest and knocking her back. She lets out a wicked yelp as I dart out the door. I try to shut it behind me but she grabs it and rips it open forcing it out of my hand. I stumble down the hall and attempt to run.

  She chases me and violently grabs a handful of my hair. She rips it backwards and my neck is jerked. I scream out.

  “You think you can run from me?” She smashes my face into the wall. My face feels raw and stings from the forceful blows. I try to push her away but she is too strong. My finger reaches up and finds her face. I push my index finger hard into her eye socket. She screams and grabs her face, releasing me. For a second I am free and I run towards the stairs. I hear her launch behind me; fear tightens my body.

  I trip as I rush down the stairs. My legs tangle and I fall violently, hitting each step with my shoulder, arms, my head, I tumble viciously landing at the bottom on my stomach. She follows me down the stairs with the gun in her hand waving it carelessly in the air. I feel my stomach; the pain is unbearable. I feel warmth between my legs and my hand run between my legs, blood. I look at my fingers; they’re covered in blood.

  My eyes fill with tears as I see the unforgiving, smiling face fill my sight.

  “Well, that problem solved itself.” She laughs at my tragedy. My body shakes and trembles as I sob. She walks calmly towards me and swiftly kicks me in the stomach. The unbearable pain races through my body as I let out an unheard cry and move my legs up, trying to protect my stomach.

  “No,” I weep in agony. I curl my body around my stomach and let out painful sobs. She kneels down next to me and brushes my hair away from my face with the gun.

  “I gave you a fair warning, I told you he was mine.” She speaks so calmly with a maddening smile across her face.

  I can only think about my baby. There is so much blood, my baby. The thought sickens me. My teeth clench and my body shudders. She cocks the gun back and points it between my eyes; I feel the cold metal close to my skin. I stiffen with fear, and then some other emotion, wretched anger and agony, overcomes me. I reach up and forcefully grab the gun with my left hand and punch her in the face with my right, causing my abdomen to twist in brutal pain. I’m shocked but I don’t have time to think about what I’m doing. I blindly throw my fists at her furiously. I hold back my heaving sobs and try to move my body, attempting to get to my feet; I stumble and slip the blood. The pain is mounting in my abdomen.

  I slam the butt of the gun down hitting her in her chest. My baby, my baby. What has she done? I shut my eyes and continue the blows. I can’t look. I feel her struggle but I lean in holding her down with my weigh. Her fists hit me over and over again and her nails are scratching my face and my neck. The cuts sting and I feel the blood dripping down my shoulders.

  The pain is nothing compared to my stomach. The hollow pain is seething. I feel the warm blood drip down my thighs and my eyes fill with overwhelming tears. I slam the gun down hard again and again. I open my eyes to see her hateful stare and piercing eyes. Her mouth is grimacing but bloody. She attempts to push me off of her, forcefully whipping her legs. I smack the gun hard across her face before she shoves me across the room, her long legs nailing me again in my gut. I hold onto the gun tight and when I hit the ground it goes off in my hand. The bullet lands somewhere in the staircase, but the sound startles me, making me jolt with fear. I look up; there’s blood everywhere. The blood that catches my eyes is the streak trailing from where I was to where I am now.

  I feel an overwhelming wave of resentment and anger rush through me. My eyes widen with fury and an unforgiving urge to release my sadness haunts the heaving in my body. Through my blurry vision, I see her barreling towards me and I quickly turn the gun towards her with both hands and fire. I feel the heat of the gun and my heart races. I can’t hear anything; it’s silent. I reluctantly open my eyes. Her face changes from wildly deranged to shocked. She looks down at her chest where the blood is slowly soaking in her shirt. Her eyes narrow at me and she moves forward. I fire again as I push my feet out in front of me moving me inches at a time, pushing myself against the wall, into a corner. I have nowhere to go. She’s still standing and I fire a third time, holding the gun with my sweaty, shaking hands, and feeling the sting and heat of the backfire. She falls to the floor, first to her knees and then flat on her stomach. Her face is smooth on the ground, but her blue eyes stare at me from across the room, still watching me, hating me, wanting me dead. She doesn’t move. Her body is still and the blood is slowly pooling around her chest. I succumb to my sadness, releasing my anger. What have I done? My body shakes as I realize what has happened.

  I don’t know how many bullets are left, but if she moves, I’ll fire again. All of my body is quivering and the gun moves chaotically in my hands. My breathing becomes sporadic as I desperately try to maintain control. She still hasn’t moved. I wait, I don’t know how long. The pool around her is growing and she isn’t moving. I lower the gun, slightly, so that I can see her lying in front of me. I try to slow my breathing. I watch her chest. Waiting for movement. I don’t think she’s breathing. I move, dragging my numb heavy body closer to her.

  Her pale chapped lips are on the hard wood and her eyes are still looking across the room. She hasn’t blinked. The blood has now surrounded her face, soaking into her colorless skin. I move her head with a shaky hand and keep the gun pointed at her. Her neck goes limp and her head tilts to the other side. Her face is covered in blood, covered in red.

  I back away and slam into the bookcase behind me. What have I done? Heat overwhelms my body and my legs go weak. I hear the sirens approach. I blink the tears away and hold my abdomen. What have I done? I sink to the ground and rock tightly, sobbing as my body heaves in painful agony. I see red; I can only see red. My body hardens in pain, emotional and physical. I feel a mix of anger, resentment, regret, despair, but mostly sadness, overwhelming sadness.

  My body is heaving with my sobs. My breathing is erratic and I feel dizzy and light-headed. I pull my legs to my chest and lean my face against the hard, iron railing. I need Thomas; I need him to hold me. I need him to tell me everything is okay. I hear shuffling of fast paced movements and the door opens, but they’re too late.

  At least four police officers, maybe more, come barreling into the room. It’s not Thomas; I need Thomas. One leans down next to me, the others come to a screeching halt as they approach Lillian. It’s too surreal. I can’t keep my head up any more, I can’t watch.

  “Ma’am, are you okay?” He’s grabbing my shoulders and trying
to look at me in the eyes. I can’t return eye contact. I can’t respond. His voice is going in and out. I do my best to calm my breathing; it doesn’t work. I take small gasps for air and my body continues to heave recklessly moving my aching body into the wall.

  “Is there anyone else here?” I shake my head no. I still can’t look at him. There was no one else. The light-headedness starts taking over my body. I feel myself heaving.

  “Clear.” I hear from the across the room. Hot tears burn down my face. I blink and a wave of wetness drenches under my eyes. I finally release a hand and wipe my face hard, frantically trying to recover.

  “She-” I start to speak and my body heaves deep. My head falls to my chest. I feel like I’m suffocating, unable to move or talk, my heart speeds and my chest pains.

  “It’s alright.” His voice is low and calm. “Just concentrate on your breathing in and out.” I feel cold hands pick my body up. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.” A gurney is pulled in and I hear it snap into place. There is noise in the background, voices and more sirens. The voices are close but I can’t make out the words.

  “Stay with us, Emma.” Before I can respond, I’m being pushed out of the house. Someone I can’t see is holding a mask to my face. I move my head violently trying to release myself of the mask, but I’m unsuccessful. With my head turned I see her body on the ground, her bludgeoned body. Three men are standing over her body pointing at the corner of the room from where I shot her and then back down at her lifeless corpse. I can’t watch and my head sways to the other side, I close my eyes tight allowing the stinging pain to penetrate deep into my chest.

  I hear the ambulance doors open and I open my eyes, two more bodies and men surrounding them. The security team that was here to protect me, they’re lying cold on the ground, lifeless. They aren’t covered in blood like she was. They must have died quickly. Cigars are on the ground, still burning. I close my eyes again and hot tears pour around my face to my ears. I try to lift my arms but I can’t. I hear more words, “Stay with us, Emma.” I try again to lift myself but I can’t; I’m being held down. My body is weak and convulsing. Faces watch me as they heave me into the back of the ambulance. I feel lifeless and cold; the only warmth is from my tears. I can hear a yelling, “Emma!” I see him trying to push his way through. They are holding him back, not letting him come to me, he’s fighting them, screaming as he watches me disappear.

  The pain is unbearable; my face heats as tears drown me. I breathe into the mask, “Thomas.”

  Chapter 14

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  The static sound spewing from the machine wakes me; I instantly cringe as I feel an overwhelming pain collapse my body. I move my neck and a violent throbbing sting shoots up my back and down my shoulder, causing me to wince. I open my eyes slightly; the bright light blinds me. Tubes are jabbing me in my throat and nose. As I try to move my arm, I feel a sharp pain. My body is heavy, holding me down. Every tiny movement is accompanied by intense agony.

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  I breathe in deep, holding my stomach. The pain is overwhelming; I bend my knees, trying to curl, protecting my stomach. It’s too late. I hear voices, but they are just sounds. I don’t know what they’re saying. My vision is blurred. I feel a hollow pain, a low seething throbbing and I remember. I remember her arms flailing at me. I remember the gun, the scowl on her face. I remember her wicked smile and her voice, laughing at me, at my pain. I remember the blood, the hot blood between my thighs, my body lurches and I cry out. Tears drench my eyes and viciously fall around me.

  Finally, I heave my body and pull at the IVs, ripping them out violently. Pulling the tubes out is painful, but I flail my body. My arm hit the machine making a shrill and constant beeping noise. I feel hands pushing me down. The voices are loud; I don’t know what they’re saying. They’re holding me down. I try to cry out, but I have no voice. I see a needle, coming towards me and I try to wriggle away, but they are holding me down hard. The needle pinches me and I start to drift. I feel weak. I open my eyes. Thomas is there, watching me, there are tears falling from his soft blue eyes.

  How long has he been here?

  Blackness overwhelms me.

  I FEEL EMPTY. I hear voices and my body stills. I don’t want to move and feel pain. I don’t want them to hold me down again. I try to listen.

  It’s Thomas. I didn’t hear what he said.

  “I’m sorry Mr. Grant.” He’s crying; no Thomas, don’t cry.

  “She’ll recover, she’s already healing well. Considering what she’s been through…” I can’t hear what he is saying. All I can hear is Thomas. I want to open my eyes. I’m afraid though. I don’t want to see. I don’t want to come back to reality; life has been cruel and wicked.

  “Emma,” he calls my name and I reflexively open my eyes. He looks frightful. His face is bright red and tear-stained; his hair is disheveled. He looks like he’s slept in his clothes; they’re wrinkled and filthy. I can’t say his name, I try, but my voice is lost. My eyes meet his gaze. He bends down over me, grabbing my hand in his and kisses me tenderly, with his other hand on my neck. His soft lips are moist with warm salty tears.

  “Emma.” He waits for my response, searching my eyes with his, full of worry, regret, and sadness. His thumb grazes my knuckles as he frowns.

  “Our baby.” I finally speak; it’s only a whisper. I know the words are audible by the sadness that spreads across his soft blue eyes.

  “Mrs. Grant,” a doctor in blue scrubs and a white coat speaks, moving to the edge of the bed. “I’m Dr. Carlson. I’ve been monitoring you for the past two days. How are you feeling?” I move my gaze to the doctor. I feel weak and my throat hurts.

  I try to speak, swallowing hard, “I feel numb.”

  “You’re on morphine right now, Mrs. Grant.” His mouth is in a hardline. “I believe yesterday you were experiencing pain, you woke up in a panic. If you feel more pain, please let us know immediately.”

  “Our baby,” I breathe. Keeping my eyes on his, I see agony.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Grant.” He hesitates and looks at Thomas before looking back at me. “You suffered many injuries, including a miscarriage.”

  Thomas holds my hand, but I rip it away from him, covering my face. I remember the fall and my body trembles. My heart collapses and I turn my head, trying to bury myself in the pillow. I gasp for breath, letting out my hard sobs. I remember her kicking me; my knees involuntarily move my chest. I can’t breathe, I gasp for air. Thomas is trying to hold me. I don’t want him to touch me. I don’t want to feel love.

  “Leave me alone!” I yell as I inhale deeply. The tears are hot, but my face feels even more heated. “You weren’t there. You said you would protect me and keep me safe, but you weren’t there.”

  “Emma, please,” his voice is soft and wounded. I don’t care that he is wounded; he left me there. I couldn’t keep our baby safe just as he couldn’t keep me safe. I don’t want anything from him. I don’t want protection or love anymore.

  “Go away!”

  “Emma,” he moves his hand to my back and I violently shove him away causing the IV to rip into my arm.

  I scream at him, “Don’t touch me!” My body heaves with my sobs. I feel empty. I’m nothing. I want nothing but to be alone. I can’t stand his touch. I don’t want comfort.

  “You have to be still.” The doctor holds my hands down. Two nurses run frantically into the room. I hear Thomas yelling at someone. I try to calm my breathing. I don’t want them to hold me down again. I try to calm myself; I can’t stop the tears. The doctor sits down next to me.

  “Mrs. Grant, I understand this is a difficult time for you, I’m very sorry for your loss. You have other injuries as well. If you move too suddenly you could cause yourself even more pain.”

  “I don’t care,” I weep. My body feels numb and hollow. I don’t care about pain. I don’t care about anything.

  “Just try to stay calm,” a nurse says pushing a needle into
the IV. “This will ease your pain, Mrs. Grant.” Her eyes are calm, but sad. I glance around the room through my blurred vision, everyone looks sad. Strange faces watch me. Thomas is gone; he has left me. I cry, throwing my head back into the pillow. I watch the door through the tears, feeling my body calm. I hear the doctor, but I don’t listen.

  My baby is gone, and so is Thomas.

  I cry until I feel the darkness come. It overwhelms me, but calms me. I accept it; it will take me away.

  I FEEL THE GUN in my hand, the cold hard metal. It crashes down on her body, her lifeless corpse. I don’t stop; I’m filled with rage and anger. The pain jolts through me as I raise my arm and strike down again with all my weight. I feel the blood on my face, but it’s cold, it’s freezing cold. I look down, her eyes are staring at me and her wicked smile mocks me. I slam down hard again and again and again. Crying out, but there is no sound other than the thud of the metal striking her flesh. I feel heat dripping down my thighs, a small puddle of bright red between my legs on the dark floor. Her blue eyes move and she lets out a vile laugh.

  “Emma!” Thomas holds my arms, holding me down. My body is shaking uncontrollably. I’m screaming, the hot tears pour down my face.

  “Emma, it’s okay. It’s okay.” His eyes are begging me to stop, pleading with me to calm. I sob into his arms and bury my head in his chest. He holds me tight to him, rocking me slowly, gently. “It’s okay.” He kisses my hair. “It’s okay.” I don’t want him to stop holding me. His warmth surrounds me, consoling me until I drift back to the darkness.

  I HEAR KATE’S VOICE and open my eyes.

  “Emma.” Her eyes are red and bloodshot. She runs to me, away from Thomas and holds my hand with both of hers. Tears fill her eyes and then mine. “I’m so sorry,” she sobs. “I called them as soon as I got your text. I’m so sorry.” She moves to her knees and her head falls onto the bed.