Chapter 36 The Uninvited Guest
THE UNINVITED GUEST
EMERY
My cheeks hurt from smiling. It’s such a wonderful pain.
I can’t help myself. I can’t help but feel so damn happy as I float downstairs, my body light, my heart so full.
Despite the lingering discomfort from what I can only describe as a life-altering fuckfest, I feel so goddamn fulfilled. So content.
I didn’t know I could reach this level of happiness. I thought it was impossible. I thought the part of me that was capable of that emotion died on the operating table.
I remember the day when I felt at my lowest. It’s tattooed into my brain.
A reminder of who I was before they opened my heart and I opened mine.
Quin was right. In order to love someone, or be loved, you need to be vulnerable.
Until I met them, I’ve never shown anyone any vulnerability, not even myself.
I stand in front of the fridge, the door ajar, and I stare at the produce, my mind slipping into a moment so drastically different than the one I’m currently experiencing.
My childhood bedroom feels like a prison. Or maybe it’s a graveyard. The walls scream with pieces of my former self. I feel my past in this room. But not my present. Not my future.
Who am I now?
I lie alone in bed, the covers pulled up to my chin as I trace the ragged scar on my chest. This gift of life feels like a damn anchor. My parents are downstairs, laughing and celebrating. They're happy I'm alive, grateful for the second chance this donor's heart has given me.
Yet, as I run my fingers over the raised and discolored skin, there’s a heaviness in my chest—a different kind of burden I’ve never felt before.
Sorrow courses through my veins. Regret.
Confusion. I’m supposed to be recovering.
I suppose I am. Physically. But emotionally…
emotionally I feel broken. So fucking shattered.
Loss. That’s what I feel. I should be celebrating. Reveling in the hope that comes with a beating heart that isn't my own. Instead, I’m mourning something, someone, that I never even knew.
Tears roll down my face, unbidden and unstoppable. I press the base of my palms against my ungrateful eyes, hoping to push back the tears, send them away. The sobs shake me. My entire body shakes.
Who am I? Why is this happening?
I sit in my childhood bedroom alone, letting the tears fall, letting the grief and confusion wash over me.
Alone.
I feel so fucking alone.
I blink, willing my mind to return to the present. Memories of that night cling to me like sticky cobwebs as I stand before the refrigerator light. The hollow ache still lingers but I push it aside. I’m not alone. Not anymore.
I’ve got my lifelines.
And they’ve got me.
I collect veggies, dips, and few other snacks from the fridge. They must be as famished as I am. The refrigerator hums, a soothing, almost hypnotizing sound. But as I close the door, all sense of peace shatters. A jarring click sounds from across the kitchen—a sound I’ve heard before.
The hammer of a gun being pulled back.
I freeze, the vegetables slipping from my grasp and crashing onto the floor.
A cold and calculated voice slices through the silence. "Hello, Emery."
No.
Simone emerges from the shadows, illuminated by the eerie light of the bright full moon. A gun dangles from her hand, a malevolent glint in her eyes. The way she looks at me is terrifying, unsettling, almost inhuman in its wrath.
I take a step back, my gaze darting toward the staircase that leads upstairs. Panic sets in and a thousand thoughts race through my mind.
How did she find me? What does she want? What about Damon? And Quin? Are they okay? Did she—
"You say one word and I will shoot," Simone warns me in a venomous whisper. She rounds the kitchen island, the gun steady in her hand.
My pulse quickens, and my throat tightens with fear. "What... What do you want?"
Simone's lips curl into a sinister smile. "What do I want?" She repeats my question mockingly. "I want justice, Emery. I want you to pay for what you've done."
My brain spins to comprehend her words. Justice? She wants justice? For what? Me shooting her? Escaping? She was the monster. Justice is not for the guilty.
"I knew you were going to be a difficult little bitch," Simone continues, glowering at me. "I underestimated you, Emery. I did not think you had it in you to trick her. To…" Her jaw clenches.
“Where is she?” I ask, immediately regretting the question.
Simone’s expression darken. “I was hoping you’d know.
” She cocks her head. “She left me.” Her voice strains with contempt.
“I set her free, and she left me bleeding on the side of a fucking road!” Simone takes a step closer, pointing the gun directly at me.
“You ruined my life, Emery Jones. You took away everything! She was… She was everything to me.”
"I did what I had to do," I whisper, my voice barely audible. “You were going to kill me. You—”
Simone laughs. Such a hollow sound. "Yes, and that is still my plan.”
She sighs, waving the silencer. She’s only a few feet away. I have nowhere to run. Not this time. She clicks her tongue, her gaze flitting to my chest, and I stagger backward until I’m up against the wall.
“I know about you, Emery. You have not had an easy life. It is sad, really.”
She takes another three steps toward me, the gun now pressed directly against my skin. She uses the barrel to open my robe, the cold, hard metal scraping against my faded scar. She taps the center of my chest. Hard.
“You didn’t deserve this.” Her lip twitches.
“This heart could have helped someone live for dozens of years, and yet it will only beat for a few more minutes.” Her gaze snaps up at me, and I swallow, my hands shaking, tears welling in my eyes.
“If only her parents were still alive. I’d send them an apology note on your pathetic behalf.
” She scowls at me. “Dear Mr. and Mrs. Perry. I’m sorry that Alison's gift was wasted. I’m sorry that—”
My heart clenches, my vision blurring as Simone's words ring in my ears.
Alison Perry.
Alison. Alison. Alison.
No…
The name pounds through my head like a thunderclap, each syllable carrying the strength of a thousand burning suns. That’s who died in the car accident? That’s who Damon killed?
It can’t be…
It…
"What did you say?" I mutter, the room spinning around me. "Her name..."
Simone smirks, reveling in my distress. "Alison Perry. The woman whose heart beats inside you."
Alison. Alison. Alison…
The woman Damon and Quin loved. The woman who tore them apart. Who broke them. Who saved me.
Panic flares within me, and my hands shake with disbelief, confusion, and pain. It can't be true. It's impossible.
"No," I mumble, shaking my head. "No..."
Simone presses on, undeterred. "Any last words, Emery Jones? A prayer, perhaps?"
“Please."
A gunshot echoes through the room.
I brace for the searing pain, closing my eyes, hoping and praying that this life is not my last. I scream, whimpering, but once again the pain never comes. Once again, I am spared.
Trembling, I open my eyes to find Quinton and Damon standing in the distance, a smoking gun in Quin's hand.
My pulse quickens, and my heart…her heart…it hurts.
"I had to," Quin mutters, staring down at Simone. "She was going to…”
I flick my gaze down to the floor, to Simone's lifeless body, to the blood pooling around her head.
I don’t hear the rest of Quin’s sentence. The only thing I can focus on is Damon. His pale and ghostly face. The way he looks at me, stares at me, at my chest, at the scar, at where a part of Alison now resides.
"Alison..." Damon mutters, his voice hollow. "She's... She's dead?"
Quinton's expression tightens and instant realization dawns on me. The truth he's hidden, the lies he's told.
"You knew?!" I croak, trembling and hoarse. "You knew Alison was the woman that died in the accident?"
Damon drops to his knees, aghast.
Oh, God… No… Not like this. No…
"Damon..." Pain seizes my heart.
No.
What did I do?
What did I say?
"I killed her?" Damon mutters, staring into nothingness. "I..."
Quinton stays silent, tacitly confirming all of Damon’s greatest fears. My heart sinks as the truth hangs in the air like an airborne toxin. It’s true, isn’t it? Quin knew. He knew it was Alison.
I stare at Damon, lost for words. His anguish is palpable, his face contorted with unbelievable pain.
"Damon," I whisper, my voice breaking, regret clawing at my insides. "I didn't mean to—" My breath catches in the back of my throat. “I…”
Quin swallows, shoulders stiff with guilt. "I knew.” He looks at Damon, a sorrowful gleam in his blue eyes. "I’m sorry, Damon. I wish you didn’t have to find out this way. I wish…”
The room closes in on us, the air thick with grief, betrayal, and a tragic love story that none of us ever fully understood. Damon's eyes meet mine, and the despair capturing his features shatters whatever remains of our sacred bond.
"Alison," he repeats, the name heavy on his lips. "I killed her."
Quinton takes a tentative step toward Damon. “It was an accident, Damon. You—"
"An accident?" Damon snaps, his eyes blazing with anger and self-loathing. "I killed her! I killed Alison and you…you lied to me… You all lied to me!” His voice rises, broken and distraught. “Why…” His livid gaze snaps toward me. “You knew? You knew that I…”
"I didn’t know it was Alison," I cry, tears streaming down my face. "I didn’t…”
“But you knew I killed someone?” he asks through clenched teeth, his hands balled into fists as he remains kneeled, submissive to the God he believes will judge him.
“You…” His eyes widen. “That’s why you… Oh my God…
” Tears roll down his cheeks, shoulders heavy and quaking.
“Your heart… You…” His words become broken, almost inaudible. “I…”
It happens too fast.
Damon lurches up, snatching the gun from Quinton’s hand. I scream, slipping on Simone’s blood as I leap toward him, but Quinton screams at me to stop, his voice controlled as I fall apart.
With the barrel of the gun pointed at his temple, Damon’s hand shakes, his finger on the trigger, his body fighting against the primal instinct to survive. His eyes close, lips quivering as he sobs.
“Damon, don’t.” Quinton swallows, sinking down in front of him as I stand frozen in fear as a man I love threatens his own life. “Please, Damon. Look at me. You don’t have to do this. You don’t.”
Damon’s eyes spring open, and his hopelessness is so gut wrenching that I fear the mountains may crumble under its weight.
“How can you bear to look at me?” he asks Quinton.
“I…” His breath catches. “I thought she left. I thought she moved away after…” His finger is so dangerously close to pressing the trigger.
“I killed her, Quinton. I-I’m a monster. I don’t deserve to live.”
“It was an accident, Damon,” Quinton says softly, his own pain so perfectly audible. “You didn’t mean to… You didn’t…”
“I was drunk!” Damon cries. “I was drunk, Quinton! I ran a fucking red light. I-I was driving so fast… If I wasn’t… If I wasn’t drinking, I would’ve…” His eyes close, and I can’t bear his agony. “Dead… She’s dead.”
“And Emery is alive,” Quinton says.
My heart clenches.
He knew.
He knew I had Alison’s heart.
Oh, God.
“Emery is alive because of Alison,” Quin says, gently reaching up to the gun. Damon’s grip on it loosens. “Please, Damon…” He wraps his hands around the pistol, slowly lowering it as Damon sinks lower than the ninth circle of hell. “I’m so sorry, Damon. I really am.”
Lost in his grief, Damon nods absently as Quinton glances up at me. "We need to call the FBI. Can you please go get me my phone?” I stare at him, unable to speak, unable to move. “I’m sorry, darling. I’m so sorry.”
Through tears, I whisper, “I’m sorry too.”