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by Kirsty-Anne Still

  With that plea, I react. I cannot stand here and wait for Enzo to talk Giovanni from a devilish ledge. He’s already committed to being a devil’s advocate, but now he’s past saving. Manuel doesn’t have to be. Gradually, I reach into my pocket. I wrap my shaky fingers around the cell phone. I pull it out, unlocking it as I begin to take a slow step backwards.

  “Don’t move!” Giovanni bellows, taking a step forward. The knife pointed straight at me, a warning sign of what’s to come, I assume.

  “Okay!” Enzo demands control, stepping forward to place himself between Giovanni and me. “We won’t call for help. We’re family, we can work this out.”

  “No!” Giovanni roars, spitting as rage consumes his every word. “Put the fucking phone down, Amelia!”

  I shake my head, unable to just give up. “No, stop fighting this, Gio. Let us get help!

  “Oh, This is no fight. This is a fucking massacre, Amelia!” he tells me gleefully. “You can’t stop what’s already in motion.”

  “Giovanni, stop!” Enzo commands, his voice tight, stern, now verging on unhindered aggression. “This is something I can and will stop! You’ve proved a point by hurting Manuel. You’ve showed us that we need to change, so let us!”

  I know it’s all a lie. Enzo is working his skill of negotiation to talk Giovanni down.

  “Enz,” Manuel sputters as silence settles for a moment. He’s struggling to get our attention, but he’s trying with every dying breath.

  I watch Enzo fight with himself at that.

  “Gio, put the knife down,” Enzo urges. “We can get this sorted and get Manuel help.”

  “Fat chance,” Giovanni yells, his gaze switching between Enzo and me. “You’ll never let me live this down.”

  “Lia,” Manuel tries to get my attention, and it works.

  I can’t leave my baby brother to suffer alone.

  As I take my dive toward my dying brother, consumed by the sight of only him, I don’t react to Giovanni stepping to the side to block my motions. As Enzo’s hands come to tear me back, I feel a searing across my abdomen. Not once or twice, but four times. If any others are issued, they’re disrupted by the numbing haze that consumes me. It cuts through different areas of my stomach and before I know it, Enzo is screaming my name, shock forcing him to let me go, and I'm hitting the floor.

  On impact, my eyes meet Manuel's striking blue ones as he reaches for me, but it takes too much to move. I try to fight against it, but as my breathing begins to get harder, Manuel whispers my name while Enzo screams at Giovanni behind me, the taste of copper hits the back of my throat, and the world around me hazes over until the black is just too addictive to ignore.

  What a divine end to a perfect day.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  My eyelids have never felt so heavy. I fight, but I feel they’re weighted and the mere action of opening my eyes is tiresome. But when I do, I find myself staring and I realize that I’m flat on my back, but my body feels as if it isn’t mine. The initial shock of the stabbing must have knocked me out and whatever has happened since is nonexistent to me.

  Now that I’m awake, I’m in an entirely new world of pain. As I come to my senses, I feel my body convulse, trying to resist the urge to give up. I find my breathing becoming shallower as my heart rate races to circulate less and less blood around my body. I close my eyes once more before fighting them back open. I need to get help. Manuel needs help. I need help. I can’t just fucking lie here.

  Opening my eyes once more, I stare at the ceiling waiting for my mind to slow and allow me to make more sense than I am right now. I feel scattered as my brain toys with a million things at once.

  As I seem to come to take note of the room I’m in, I’m overtaken by the screaming to my right, the one that makes it over the noise of my heartbeat, and that’s when I smell it - blood permeates my nostrils and it's all I can smell. The rich stench of copper has never smelled viler than it does right now and as I try to move, to turn my head away from the offending odor, I find the scent only getting stronger. With drowsy eyes, I scan the floor and I see Manuel's quivering body. His eyes are closed as he lays only a few feet away, his hand still outstretched for me.

  “What the fuck have you done?” Enzo’s voice bellows from my right. I can’t tell what he really feels as I hear the distinctive notion of anger meddled with tears. “Gio, look at them both! Gio!” he screams and I hear what sounds like a scuffle between the two men. “You have to let me get to them!”

  “No,” Giovanni screams. “They deserve this!”

  “No, they don’t!” Enzo fights back, gritting his teeth.

  I turn my head and see my brothers. Although Enzo is poised ready for a fight, I also notice blood on him. His face is scrunched up in pain, and I see sweat bead his forehead. My mind rallies around scenarios, but all I can deduce is that he’s been hurt, too. That it isn’t my blood or Manuel’s or my own on him, the pattern from it tells me it’s his. My eyes struggle to focus on the patches, but I can just make out rips in the material.

  Moving my head back, I know I have to assess the damage caused to me so I can help Manuel. I lower my hands down my own body, shakily moving them inch by delicate inch until all I feel is the warmth of my own blood. I survey the damage before I struggle to move, my hands splayed over my wounds to cover them the best I can manage on my own. I push my body until I’m on my knees.

  “Amelia, don’t move!” Enzo exclaims, but he grunts from what I can only assume is Giovanni attacking.

  “No, no, no,” I mumble, hearing Enzo’s body collapse while Giovanni laughs out relentlessly. This cannot be happening! I look back, torn between both brothers, but Manuel’s been bleeding out more and I regrettably turn my back on Enzo to crawl toward my baby brother. “Manuel,” I murmur softly, falling down onto my side. My entire body cannot sustain my own weight and the movements have only caused me to bleed heavier, the blood running through my fingers.

  I lay staring at Manuel as he remains unconscious, his blood encroaching on my own pool of blood and I hate I’m unable to help. My entire being craves to help my brothers, but in my brother helping me, he wound up hurt and now he’s no longer crying out for me or Manuel. I know this moment for Enzo, Manuel, and myself is dangerous, and while I’m the only one awake, I know full well I’m a vulnerable target.

  I feel the toe of Giovanni’s boot nudge me until I’m rolled onto my back. I lay there, the action having winded me. As movement floats around my hazy vision, I feel hands clasp around my ankles, aiding someone into lifting my legs. The movement causes even more pain than I thought plausible to shoot through my stomach. I groan before I dissolve into tears. My cries aren't sobs, my body cannot find the energy to exert such emotion and I'm silenced by pain when we begin to move. I whimper as my body struggles to tolerate what’s happening and I’m barely able to comprehend what’s truly going on. My body lethargically follows the motion I'm being forced in. I open my eyes, finding the ceiling passing me by and really take note that Giovanni is dragging my dying body through our house. Lights swim into my vision before passing on to clean white space, cutting off as we pass through the thresholds of rooms. When we stop, I find it hard to gather where we are, but when my feet hit the ground, jolting my entire body, causing me to once again cry out, I know we’ve reached whatever destination my brother has in mind.

  I close my eyes, trying to manage the pain I’m in, but when I open them, I find Giovanni leering down at me. His eyes watch me for a moment, the dilation of his pupils no less than they were, and my breathing becomes rapid with fear. He leans down, causing me to close my eyes before my body starts to lift into his arms. I look up to see Giovanni, this time while he has me cradled in his arms. My head lulls against his heated body, the blood of three siblings merging as one, and I take a moment to really try and fight for a way to get help.

  “Gio,” I silently speak his name. “Gio, wh-what are you,” I pause momentarily, my ability to speak stilted by how tired I
’m becoming. I take a steady breath, licking my lips as I strive for the words. “What are y-you doing?”

  “What I should’ve done a long time ago to prove to Papà that you are three of the weakest links he ever invested hope in,” he says, walking us down the few steps to our father’s office. Every single step ceases my body with blinding, tortuous smarting, and I don’t know how far off I am from blacking out once more. "And you are the weakest of them," Gio spits, carrying me further into the room. "Wonder what Papà will make of finding the biggest human sacrifice to date."

  He sets me on the edge of the desk before he starts to swipe away every object upon the surface. I hear every fall and clatter to the floor, objects break as others scatter across the marble flooring. Moments later, I’m lifted again, but this time to be laid out flat upon the grand, overbearing oak desk that adorns the center of our father’s office.

  “Gio,” I now sob at him. “Don’t-don’t do this. Wha-whatever you thi-think, i-it can be undone. Ww-we can sort it.”

  “No, we can’t!” Gio ferociously yells, igniting into an angry version of his psychosis. “This is what is meant to happen to fix this family! This is what I was meant to do to show Papà that I am worthy of taking this family over! He doesn’t get to forget about me in favor of fucking Maverick!”

  I have no time to speak out as Gio leaves the room in a fury, bloodied hands on his head, and he leaves me alone. I struggle to look around the room, trying in vain to find some way to get myself help, but that moment of begging with my own brother has cost me more energy than I had left. The phone that usually sits on the desk is now discarded across the room, my phone is back in the other room, I remember dropping it when Giovanni stepped back away after stabbing me. I have no way to get help, and I’m left alone.

  I roll my head back, staring at the ceiling once more. My life drips away with every beat of my heart and I can feel it ebbing away. The tears fall down my face as I find it increasingly harder to keep my grip on this reality. I have no idea how much longer I’ll last, but I’m striving to hear a voice that will heed some sort of rescue.

  In all my years, I have never found living to be the hardest part of my life. But as I struggle to keep a hold on my grip on reality, fight for consciousness, and wait to hear the sounds of salvation, I realize this is it. All the things I have started to plan, my fight back to finding the girl I want to be, giving into loving the man I want is all about to end here and all a little too late.

  And that thought on its own causes me to break down.

  I tell myself to move, to use my legs to swing my body from the desk and onto the floor to find an escape, but none of my limbs seem to want to work anymore. Blood loss is taking effect as it shuts my body down piece by piece, and I hate myself for this newfound weakness I am a victim of.

  “Quit the fucking waterworks. No one’s coming for you,” Giovanni spits at me, entering the room once more. His tone is off as if his senses are finally coming to life and toying with his dirtied conscience.

  I look to my side, my head lulling heavily, to see Giovanni marching back and forth. My body convulses painfully, and I roll my head back, unable to watch him. I’m staring up at the crystal chandelier my father uses to adorn his room in bright lights. I feel like he’s watching me until I bleed out.

  The crystals hang well balanced, illuminated with penetrating rays of beautiful light and I'm left wondering – is this how I'm supposed to die? Spread out on my father's desk as if I'm a human sacrifice, my brother pacing like a maniac beside me while my life pours from fast crimson rivers, spreading around me with a dramatic cause. Is that how my death is written in the stars?

  I cry harder at the thought. I wanted so much out of this life, so much goodness to follow the dark cloud that’s followed my every move. I finally saw hope; saw what Enzo always fought for. I saw it all and now I’m paralyzed with pain, trapped by it, and all I can do is stare ahead as the light dances through every face on the surface of the crystal chandelier.

  As I continue to drown in my thoughts, I suddenly find it’s getting much harder to keep my eyes open. I knew my life was bleeding out, but now I truly know I’m on the last few remaining drops before it’s game over. Everything is beginning to slip away too quickly.

  Now, every time I close my eyes, I'm met by the haunting visuals of my life. It flashes and bursts and scenes I have loved to live take over the darkness and the saddest thing of it all is that each one involves Zane. Intermittently, I’m greeted with visuals of my family – moments with my brothers, ones full of calm and laughter. My mother bursts through, but the majority of what I’m watching involves Zane – as if to torture me more that I won’t have these moments again. All those memories I see involve him. His kisses, his smiles, and the way he said I love you. They all dance and twirl and invade the darkness, and I can't help but feel at ease to know that when my life flashed before my eyes, I only saw the love people had granted me with. All my heinous crimes, all my wrong decisions, or my bad judgments don’t assault me. I’m greeted at the cusp of death with the love that has surrounded me and seen me through the worst of it all.

  However, as I find myself ensconced in the beautiful memories, thankful for the peace, I find myself met with when he left that last time and my heart breaks. That convoluted fight that tore us apart so wildly conjures up, but its saving grace is when I still fought to save him. And just as it came, it disperses into the first time I saw him again and the staggering affair we’ve lived. As I feel myself begin to drift, it's as if nothing matters because Zane’s voice penetrates the blissful oblivion preparing its beautifully wispy talons. His voice drags me back and prevents me from taking the plunge.

  “Open your eyes now,” I hear him call, but the darkness calling is greater. “Sweetheart, I need you to open your eyes!” he cries again; this time it’s almost a sonic boom in the darkness. “Amelia, please!” he begs, and I start to fight back. I don’t know if this is a part of my mind conjuring up what I want right now, or if he’s actually here, but I have to find out. “Amelia,” he sobs, the voice closer to me than ever.

  I open my eyes to see him here crying as he stares down at me.

  “Amelia, please,” he sobs again, this time he really cries out.

  I begin to cough as I breathe through the throbbing pains, now feeling his hold on my stomach to staunch the bleed. As that taste of blood becomes too much, he looks at me. He stares incredulously, clearly unable to process that I opened my eyes for him.

  “Amelia,” he whispers, looking up at the ceiling as he silently murmurs a thank you. “You’ve got to hold on. Help is on the way.” His voice is wrecked with tears, consumed with worry, but there’s a tone that wraps itself around me, telling me to keep my eyes open even when he’s stopped. “Help is coming, baby. I promise you, help is coming.”

  “T-tired,” I whisper, murmuring softly. I can hear how my voice is beginning to silent itself.

  “I know you are, but you have to keep your eyes open, you have to stay awake. If only for a little while longer.” He tries in vain not to sound desperate, but I can tell he’s unraveling. “How about I keep talking and you just listen? That’s all I’m asking, sweetheart, is for you to keep quiet while I speak. Can you do that?”

  As my tears return, I nod my head, telling myself to remain awake to hear every word he has to say to me.

  “You know, from the moment I met you, I knew you would make me work. But I also knew that you would never let me regret a moment of it, and I don’t. Not even standing here now, Amelia. I would never regret this whirlwind we’ve become. You said I was the silence in your chaos. Well, you’re that loud resounding boom in my silence. You tear my every wall down; you corrupt my soul to the point of loving you, and way past the point of ever letting you go. You invade my system like you’re a drug and I can’t kick that habit. I don’t want to. I want to grow old with you and make a life and create memories. I am yours because you made your mark. You consumed me and made
me see past one night with you. It’s not about to end here, Amelia. We have years, decades, to laugh and cry and love and hate. Don’t let him steal our love story from us. Please, don’t let him win and take you from me.” He’s crying now, harder than ever, and I want nothing more than to console him. He’s escalating into a new form of desperation as he attempts to stem the bleeding from my stomach and keep me awake all at once. "Ti amerò per sempre, dolcezza. That’s the deal, sweetheart. I will love you forever, but I can’t do that without you. This is not how our story ends! This cannot be how it ends. It’s not written like this. This isn’t part of my dream for us!”

  I want to say something back, but it requires the strength I no longer have. He’s confessed his heart to me on too many occasions and this time I can’t recite what I feel. This time I’m silenced into breaking his heart when I want anything but that. I don’t want the fight to be against his love – I want to endure every single, tiny, graceful drop of it.

  “Stay with me, sweetheart. I need you to stay with me,” he begs me, his voice becoming more shrill. He must notice how close I am to succumbing to the darkness because, if I can feel it, he has to be watching it happening. “Don’t you dare close your eyes, Amelia.”

  I’m too tired to even form words. I open my mouth to say something, but I can’t speak. I fail at telling him all that I want to. I want to tell him that I’m sorry for waiting this long to realize that I am wholeheartedly in love with him and every one of his actions to prove his worth to me. I want to kiss him one last time, to hear him tell me that he loves me and wants me to grow old with him. I want for him to take the pain away and wake me from this nightmare. I want to run free and get my fairy tale.

  I feel the words I want to say wrap around my throat, strangling with every syllable they use, but as my eyes fix onto Zane’s, I build up the courage, the energy, the ability to say all I need to.