by Sybil Smith
Chapter 23
After the disastrous meeting with her parents, I decided that I couldn't leave her alone tonight. And for once, I'm not really worried about having nightmares and fucking killing her. Ever since I let her read my journal a few weeks ago, I've only had two and they weren't nearly as fucking bad. I guess I really did need to let her in. To accept all of me, good and bad. I've got to trust her to wake me up just like she's got to trust me not to go batshit and hurt her in the middle of the night. Well, that's what I got from her cute as hell speech on the way over here, anyway.
But, I'd rather not have had to stay here to 'exercise our trust.' If we had stayed at her place, I wouldn't have had to carry this damn dog cage up three flights of stairs. And I would've been able to sleep in her bed that's made for the fucking Queen. But, Harper insisted that being in familiar surroundings might also reduce the chances of freaking out or some psychological shit, so here we are at my shitty ass apartment.
"Jesus, Harper. How the hell do you carry this beast everywhere? He weighs a ton," I huff as I drop her damn cage in the middle of my living room.
"Actually, my dog only weighs 29.7 pounds. Not a ton," she says as she closes the door and makes her way to the kitchen for some wine. I'm pretty sure we need it after a night like tonight.
"Yeah, yeah," I whisper as I lean in and give her a kiss. "I'm gonna go change. Pour me some, please."
She nods her head and I make my way down the hall to my bedroom. This suit is the nicest thing I've ever worn, but it's hot as hell and I'm fucking sweating to death after carrying 29.7 pounds of fucking dog-beast. Plus the damn cage. I open the door and grope the wall with my hand until I find the light switch. After I flick it on, I realize sweating is the least of my worries.
Grant fucking Fuckface is standing right in front of me. He's wearing the exact thing he had on earlier minus the mask and with leather gloves on his hands. It might be a little cold outside, but not that fucking cold. Something's not right, I can feel it. As if standing in my pitch black bedroom didn't give him away.
I take a small step to the side and close the door as much as I can. He tenses up every time I move. My heart starts beating faster. This just isn't right.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, trying my best not to be accusatory so he won't the hell out.
He reaches into his pocket and my hands immediately fly up so he can see them. I left my gun on the table after I dropped the dog in the living room, so there's nothing I can use to scare the shit out of him. Fuck. He pulls a pistol out and raises it up to me. I've stared down the barrel too many times to count, but none have been this personal. He came here for one reason and one reason only. I just have to make sure Harper doesn't get hurt in all of this.
"Grant, you don't have to—" He starts laughing this horrifying laugh and my stomach drops.
"No. But I'm going to. No prints, untraceable gun. I'll kill you and they'll never know I did it. Harper will come running right back to me."
Well. This is more fucked up than I thought. He doesn't just want to kill me for embarrassing him and ruining his 'image.' He wants to kill me for embarrassing him and getting Harper. Fucking great. At least I know he's not after her too, though.
“How did you know where I live?”
He follows me intently with his gaze. “Money. It’s all you ever need.”
“So you paid off someone at the office to give my address?” I shake my head. “Bullshit.”
“You think someone wouldn’t trade a brother in blue for money?” He scoffs. “The NYPD is the most corrupt office I know. Only had to offer half of what I was ready to drop to find you.”
“Why this?” I shrug. “How will this solve anything?”
He doesn’t say anything. People who do this are already past the point of reason.
Hands still raised, I take a small step towards him. I'm pouring sweat and my whole body is shaking. I've been through too fucking much to end this way.
"They'll figure out it was you, Grant. She will never be with you then," I say as I make another small step towards him. "They'll find out and you’ll go to jail. Just give me the gun, and we'll say this never happened."
That's bullshit. I know it and he knows it. He laughs. "Yeah, I'm fucking sure. The way I see it…if I drop the gun, then I'll definitely go to jail. This way, I at least have a chance in hell."
He's close to shooting, I can feel it. It's getting harder and harder to breathe. I can't leave Harper like this. She needs me like I need her. This will break her. She doesn't need to be as broken as me. I can't let that happen. I pull the last card I have. "Harper's in the kitchen. She'll know it was you. There's no way out now. Just make it easier on yourself and hand it to me."
His eyes get wide as he hears the telltale click of her heels and he lowers the gun, if only an inch or two. "No. No, she can't be here. This isn't—"
"Roma, can I borrow some clothes? This dress is…" she trails off as she opens the door and sees him pointing the gun at me. He looks over at her and I know it's my only chance. I lunge towards him, but he's quicker than I thought. I don't fight back as hard as I can either because I'm afraid he'll accidently shoot Harper. No fucking way will I let that happen. He wraps one arm as tight as he fucking can around my neck and points the gun to my head with the other. Harper's frozen to her spot in the doorway. I doubt she even believes this can really be happening.
I start clawing at the arm around my neck, but it just gets tighter. I'm struggling to breathe. There are beads of sweat forming all over his face. The gun is shaking against my head because he's so nervous. It wasn't supposed to happen like this and he's freaking the hell out. Which means he's thinking of all the ways to get out of this. And as far as I can tell, none of them mean Harper and I are both gonna walk away from this.
Harper finally lowers her hands from the door frame and tentatively takes a step forward. Shit.
"No," I rasp out through the tightening grip on my throat, "Stay back. I've got this."
She looks from me to Garrett and back to me. She knows I don't have this under control, but there isn't a damn thing either of us can do about it. "Grant, please just let Roma go. We can…we can talk about this, okay? We can—"
"No, I'm done talking." He raises the gun up to her and clicks off the safety
"Down, Harper!" She falls down to the ground as I pull his arm down as hard as I can any direction away from her. He pulls the trigger as I'm fighting against him. He hit Harper, I know he hit her.
It's not until I fall to the ground that I feel the unbearable pain in my side and realize she's not the one that got shot. I try to throw Garrett's arm off me but the pain just radiates through me. It's agonizing. My eyes are clouding up and blood is covering my arm on the floor. It's getting harder to breathe. I have to hold on. I have to fight for her. She needs me and I can't leave her.
Despite the blurriness of my eyes, I see Harper crawl over to me and push her hands against my stomach. I try to call out to her, to tell her I love her, but the words just won't come. All I can do is focus on breathing and trying to stay awake. I have to stay awake for her.
Tears are running down her face and she's pushing harder against me. Her cries are heartbreaking. I want to hold her and tell her it's all going to be okay. But I can only try to stay awake as she starts sobbing out her pleas. "I love you, Roma…Don't die….Please, Roma. Please…don't die."
I try to tell her I won't. I try to tell her I'll always be here with her. That I'll always be here to love her. That she'll never be alone. But it's too hard to hold on any longer. Her face slowly gives way to the darkness that's been pulling me away.
Chapter 24
Harper stands in the middle of a room alone, only a long box is in front of her. She's wiping at her face, the tears just won't stop. I try to walk over to her, but can't move. I'm glued to my spot by the door. Her shoulders are trembling with the intensity of her sobs. No one's there to comfort her. Why the fuck is no one in there
with her? I try again to walk towards her but I can't lift my feet no matter how hard I fucking try.
"Harper," I say, hoping to get her attention to let her know I'm here. She doesn't acknowledge me, though. She grips the edge of the box as she shakily falls down to her knees in front of it.
"Roma…I'm so sorry."
"Sorry for what, Harper," I whisper. My throat is tightening up the longer I watch her cry. I just want to get over to her and hold her. Why can't I fucking move? She needs me. Her knuckles turn white as she grips harder on the box. She hasn't acknowledged me, yet. I don't know if she can't hear me or if she's choosing not to.
"Harper, what are you sorry for? Just tell me!" I'm begging her. I never beg. That's weak and vulnerable and he made me too many times. But I'd beg every single day if it meant it was for her.
Her head turns to the side and I think she's about to look over at me, but she looks down to her purse instead. She digs around and finally pulls out a picture. I'm stuck to my spot—too far away to see what the hell it is—but I can tell it's important. Her face contorts as she cries harder and pushes it against her heart.
"Oh, Roma," she says as she shakily stands back up, the picture fluttering down to the floor. Her fingers push under the edge of the box and start to lift up the top. "I'm so sorry. I tried so hard, Roma. I tried so hard."
It opens completely and I see myself lying inside of it. It's not a fucking box, it's my own goddamn coffin. This can't be real. I know it can't be real because I'm stuck in a doorway watching this whole fucked up scene unfold. But it doesn't make the pain of seeing Harper hurt any less.
"I'm right here, Harper. Don't cry. Please don't cry. I'm right here," I whisper out through strangled sobs as her upper body sprawls across my other body in the box. It's like she doesn't even have it in her to stand up anymore. I need to get to her and let her know I'm okay. It will make it better, it has to.
I yell out as I force my leg across the threshold. It takes all I have just to take one tiny fucking step. It's like I'm being shocked a million different times in a million different places, but I have to get to her. She's so close, less than ten feet away. I can do this. I have to do this. My knees hit the ground as I fall to all fours. Every inch I creep forward magnifies the pain by a thousand. It feels like I'm getting ripped open from the inside out, but I don't stop. I can't let her think she let me die.
My whole body is shaking with exertion and my skin is cracking and peeling away but I'm so close, I can't stop. I'm so close I can smell her, feel the heat rolling off her body. I reach out my hand to graze her leg, hoping she'll feel a little of what I'm feeling and know I'm there. But right before my fingertips touch her, she fades away and I'm left alone in the coldness of the empty room.
….
I try to open my eyes but they lights are blindingly bright and I squeeze them tight. When I start to talk, I notice the burn in my throat. I can't swallow, I can't talk. It freaks me the hell out. I reach up and grab the tube and start pulling it out of my mouth. It feels like someone's ripping open my throat. I gag as I start pulling harder against it. I hear something knock over and then hands gently squeeze around my wrists.
"Roma, you need to leave that in. I'm going to call a nurse, okay?"
Harper. Her voice sounds like she's been crying for a really long fucking time. I try to open my eyes again to see her but it's still too bright. As soon as her hands leave my wrists I start pulling again at that fucking thing in my throat again. I need to tell her that I'm not going anywhere and I know how hard she tried.
The door opens and more than a few people noisily make their way inside. Hands are pushing my arms down against the bed so I can't pull anymore and I start to fucking panic. It feels way too much like being tied down to that table for him. I start thrashing against the bed to get free, but the more I struggle the harder they push me down.
"Detective Raine, we need you to calm down."
"She's bleeding again."
"Vitals are dropping."
Their voices all mingle together as they try to calm me and yell out orders. I hear every voice but the one I really fucking need right now. I wish they would shut the fuck up just so I could hear her again. I listen as hard as I can, but they sedatives are fucking strong as hell and everything goes silent.
….
Harper's running. Twisting and turning through a labyrinth of concrete walls. I'm running after her, trying to catch her. Who knew she could run so fucking fast in those heels? Every so often she looks back and gives me a smile that makes me try to run even faster. I'm getting out of breath and a weird pain in my side flares up every time I take a fucking step. I'm getting slower, but it seems like she's just getting faster.
"Harper, wait. I can't," I pant out as I come to a halt and double over. I push my hand to to my stomach and try to stand up straight. I stagger to the end of the hall and choose to go left even though I have no fucking idea which way she went. I pull my hand away and see it covered in dark red blood. Fuck. That can't be good.
But I can't stop. I have to find Harper. I come to the end of the walkway and see the red of her dress as she turns another corner. I'm so close, so fucking close. I have to keep going.
When I finally get to her, I curse myself for being so weak and so fucking slow. She's tied down to a chair and he's standing behind her, knife pressed against her throat. He looks up and me and laughs the most daunting laugh I've ever heard.
"So nice of you to join us, Romie," he snarls out.
Harper's eyes are wide with fear and I stumble towards her a little bit. I can't let him do this to her. I'm supposed to be the one to protect her. "Please, take me. Let her go."
He only laughs harder and points to me with his free hand. "Why would I take you when you're already bleeding to death? This way I'll break you and still get to watch you die."
Blood is seeping through and almost covering the whole front of my shirt. I might be dying, but I won't let him hurt her. Never in a million years. "No, I don't think that's going to happen."
I take a step closer and he pushes the knife harder into her neck. A thin line of blood trickles down. "Really, Romie? I don't think you'll win this time."
Fuck. Harper's too fucking scared to cry, but that doesn't mean I am. A wayward tear falls down my cheek as I realized I'm trapped with no way out this time. I could try to run over and stop him, but with as weak and slow as I am right now, he'll kill her before I'm halfway to him. He smiles as he sees me realize what I already know.
"Don't do this to her! She doesn't deserve this! You have—"
"I love you, Roma. It's okay," she finally sobs out to me. "It's okay. I'm not afraid anymore."
I let out a sharp laugh through my tears. She may not be afraid, but I'm fucking terrified. "Harper, I'll get you out of this. I'll-I'll…I love you. It's not going to end like this."
He cackles as he slowly moves the knife a little further across her neck. "Oh, but Romie… It is."
No way am I going to let him kill her without a fucking fight. I throw myself from where I'm standing to Harper, hoping I'll at least clip the chair and knock her out of the way. Right before I'm about to land on her, they're gone and I land directly on the floor of an empty room.
…..
The constant, steady beeps of the machine pull me awake. I rapidly blink as I try to adjust to the light. It's not nearly as bad this time. My throat feels like fucking sandpaper, but I don't even fucking care. I'm just glad that goddamn tube is gone.
I go to sit up but the splitting pain in my side causes me to lie back down. I try to move my hands, but my right one is completely numb. I look down and see Harper laid over on top of it, asleep. I try to touch her face with my free hand, but the stabbing pain comes back with a vengeance.
"Shit," I whisper out through clenched teeth. I'm pretty sure no human being could actually have heard that, but Harper does. Her eyes pop open and her head snaps up. We sit in silence as she reaches up and brushes some hair
out of my face. She pulls back and drops her head in her hands as she starts crying and halfway laughing at the same time.
My arm starts tingling and I have just enough control of it to reach up and pull one of her hands away from her face and clasp it. I try to clear my throat, but it's so fucking dry. "I…water," I croak out. Not exactly what I wanted to say, but I can't talk with my throat burning like this.
She pulls the straw away after I down the whole glass in less than ten seconds. Her eyes look up at me, expectantly. I don't know if she wants me to ask her something or say something or if she just wants to blurt out everything, so I decide to just start from the beginning.
"Grant. Is he…"
She shakes her head. "Even with your body in the way, your aim is impeccable."
Except I didn't fucking aim. I was just trying to angle it away from her. That's a different discussion for a different day. One we'll have to have, I'm positive. But I don't think I can handle knowing if she resents me for killing her ex-fiancé just yet.
We sit there for an awkward beat until I slowly scoot over and pat the bed beside me. It'll be a tight fit, but she's tiny as hell so I'm not too worried. She looks down at the spot and back up to me. "Roma, I'm not so sure if I should do that—"
"Come on. I need to feel you."
And I do. I need to feel her right against me, where she belongs. My sedation-induced dreams were more than enough torture for me to know what it's like to not be able to touch her. I never want to go through that again.
She hesitantly crawls her way on the bed and settles against me, stiff as a board because she's too afraid she'll hurt me. It honestly hurts worse when she's not up here. I wrap my arm around her and gently tug until she turns completely on her side and lays her head on my shoulder. Only then do I notice what she's wearing. An old, ratty pair of my sweatpants and an equally worn out NYPD shirt I've had forever. No way would she ever be caught dead in something like that unless shit was really, really bad.