Chapter Twenty #3
His eyes close as he rests his head back against my lap. One of his arms wraps around my body as best he can in his weakened state, tucking his hand firmly under my butt. His other hand reaches up to cup my face, but he can’t quite reach it and stops at my throat.
And all I can do is scream behind the tape…silent, shaking, and trapped beneath the weight of a dying man who just sacrificed the last of his life for me.
“They’ll…come.”
The word shreds out of him, barely sound, barely breath.
His hand presses firmly against my throat at an awkward angle, mostly just resting there while his body holds him in place.
Then his chest rises… falls… rises… falls……rises…then a horrible, wet gargle rattles out of him. One long, final exhale…and then Knuckles goes still.
Completely, utterly still.
I freeze.
The gun sits awkwardly in my hand, trapped beneath the chains at my wrist. I can’t lift it properly. My fingers curl around the grip sideways, uselessly. Knuckles arranged it for me, forced it into my hand, even as he was dying.
And now he’s… gone.
But he still did what he could.
Protected me.
He draped himself over me as best he could, shielding my chest with his body. His weight is crushing, but I don’t dare try to move him. I can’t. My arms are strapped down. My head is taped tight.
And I don’t want to move him.
Not yet.
Not when the room is so horribly, painfully quiet.
There are three dead men on the ground…and one dead brother on my lap.
The silence has a pulse of its own. A thickness. A heaviness.
It presses in on me until I swear the air won’t enter my lungs.
I stare at the far wall, unable to turn, unable to look at the door. I’m blind to anything behind me. Just the stillness…the bodies…the blood cooling on my skin.
And then after maybe half an hour of nothing but my own frantic breathing…my heart rate shifts. Slows. Too much. Too fast.
Not. Freaking. Good.
Then, the lights flutter, before they, too, die. And, I’m left alone in the dark.
Terror spikes through me. My vision flickers. My pulse stutters. My body is trying to shut down. Trying to protect me the only way it knows how. But if I pass out now, if someone comes down those stairs… I won’t be able to defend myself.
I won’t even be able to see who it is.
I shake my head violently, trying to jolt myself awake, trying to force my system to stay online.
But the black floaters start.
My ears ring.
The edges of the room tilt.
No. Not now. Not like this.
“Please…” I try to whisper through the tape. Nothing escapes but a muffled hum.
Knuckles took a bullet for me.
He stood up when his body had already given up.
He fought death just long enough to get me one more breath.
One more chance.
“I-I’m okay,” I choke out into the tape, tears burning my eyes.
I’m not okay.
My pulse dips again.
My breathing stutters.
I can feel the darkness reaching for me. Soft, familiar, and inevitable.
And I know with absolute clarity…If I go under now…
I might not wake up.
Because while Knuckles took the bullet meant to end my life…the wounds carved into my neck are still trickling blood.
Still open. Still leaking. And I can’t reach up to stop it.
My vision swims. The room pulses. I feel myself tilting sideways even though I’m strapped down.
I look down as far as my eyes allow, and new tears burn down my cheeks as reality hits me like a sledgehammer.
Knuckles didn’t just die protecting me. He used his last strength to try to keep me alive.
The arm he wrapped around my torso is shoved under my hips, wedged there to hold his weight in place. To keep him from sliding off me when he lost the fight.
But his other hand…
His other hand is the one that guts me.
He wasn’t reaching for my face, like I thought.
His hand is pressed against my throat, right over Aaron’s cuts.
He was trying to stop the bleeding.
Even as his lungs failed. Even as his heart gave out. Even as he knew he wasn’t going to make it much longer.
His last act on this earth was to try and save me.
Fresh tears spill down my face and catch on the tape sealing my mouth. I gasp through my nose, desperate for air, desperate to stay conscious.
My blood trickles down between Knuckles’ fingers, warm where it slides over his cooling skin.
It isn’t enough pressure to stop the bleeding. He didn’t have the strength left for that.
But he angled himself so that even in death, his arm wouldn’t slip away. So that even when he finally let go… he’d still be trying.
Still protecting. Still shielding me with a body that should’ve been resting hours ago.
A broken sob tears out of me, muffled into silence by the tape.
“Knuckles,” I try to whisper.
I can’t move. I can’t reach him.
All I can do is feel the weight of him.
He fought death longer than any man should have to. Just to give me a few more minutes of life.
And now my heart is slowing. My head is spinning. My body is threatening to shut down completely.
I try so hard to stay awake.
But the darkness presses in on all sides.
I’m falling.
All the signs are here. The buzzing in my ears, the floaters drifting across my vision, the way the room tilts even though I’m tied to a damn chair.
My body is done fighting. It’s shutting down.
I look up at the tiny window near the ceiling.
The last strips of sunlight bleed in, warm and gold, brushing over Knuckles’ still body and the bloody concrete floor.
I shouldn’t be out any longer than a minute…maybe two…before my brain reboots and drags me back.
But God…please let it be long enough for Skip to find me.
I don’t want to wake up alone.
Not like this.
Not with Knuckles dead in my lap and me tied to a chair.
What if they never find us? I haven’t heard or seen anyone else. What if I die in this chair?
Surely, someone heard those gunshots….right?
The world squeezes in, sound fading into a tunnel, colors draining out…
And I fall.
Please, don’t let me wake up alone.
***one minute, twenty-three seconds later***
I woke up alone…and I’m so freaking scared.