Chapter 81
Karson falls back, writhing in agony as the scalding water burns his skin. The antique copper kettle I got for Rose clangs against the stone floor, tinkling as I kick it out of my way. Slowly, I advance upon a scrambling Karson, calling out to the others, “You guys okay?”
“Yeah,” Bucky grunts.
Dropping to a knee next to Karson, I grab him by the shirt, and drive my fist into his stupid fucking face.
“You think you can come into my house? Threaten my woman, and everything she fought for? For what? Her sister who didn’t care enough about her to protect her?
Her!” I scream, spit flinging, as my knuckles connect with his jaw.
“She’s the most selfless person on the planet, sacrificing herself for that poor excuse of a family member.
” The cracking of his teeth is like a fuse lit by my vengeance, quickly barreling toward an explosion that could consume us all.
I pick the kettle up by its partially broken handle, the metal still hot enough to hurt. Slamming it into his face, I hold it in place as his skin singes beneath the metal. His screams are a melody I’ll play on repeat.
If I do anything right in this life, let it be this.
I rip the kettle away, Karson’s epidermis going with it, stuck to the side of the copper. Releasing his shirt, he flops to the ground.
Unfortunately for him, I’m not done.
Grabbing a hold of his mop of sandy hair, I crane his head back. Slowly, I pour the remains of the hot water down his throat. Enjoying the gurgling of his inability to breathe far too much.
Chelsea races toward me, dropping to her knees with a slide.
“Get the fuck away from me, or I’ll kill you too,“ I snarl.
Karson incoherently waves his hands in surrender. “Stop,” Chelsea whimpers, “please. We’ll leave.”
“The only place you two are going is out to sea, when I fucking sink you to the bottom of it.”
She flinches, but holds her ground. “I’m sorry.”
Karson sputters in my hold, bloody spit peppering my face. “You’re sorry?” I scoff. “For what, exactly?”
Chelsea opens her mouth, about to spill some bullshit, but snaps it shut when I drop Karson’s barely conscious body to the dark floor.
“Rose!” I call out, noticing I haven’t heard her voice in far too long.
“I don’t give a fuck that you’re sorry.” I snarl at the sorry excuse for a sister.
Spinning on the spot, I inquire, “Rose?”
I watch from across the room as Bucky shakes Rose’s shoulders, trying to wake her.
“Keep him alive, so I can kill him again,” I growl at the whole reason for this mess.
Panic takes hold, and I scramble across the stone to reach my friend who’s got his fingers pressed to Rose’s neck.
“How?” Chelsea calls after me.
“Figure it the fuck out!” I reply.
Coming up next to Bucky, his ear hovers over Rose’s lips. “What happened?”
“I don’t know, she tackled me then didn’t get up.”
“Move,” I gruff, shoving him out of my way.
“She’s got a pulse,” Bucky offers, but it does nothing to calm the racing of my heart.
Leaning over her, I place my hand on the floor for support. Rose's hair tangles around my fingers, liquid squelching beneath my palm.
The sensation halts my movement. Raising my hand from the floor, red streams off it in a steady drip.
“No, no, no. Rose. Rose? Rose! Baby, wake up!” My frantic hands rove over her body, looking for the source of her leaking blood. “Come on, Rose, this isn’t funny.” I fake a laugh, hoping for a subtle upturn of her lips.
I get nothing, no recognition whatsoever.
My long sleeve black shirt swallows her form, obscuring any wound she could have. I hike the garment up her abdomen, there’s no injury to be seen.
“Chelsea!” I shout, rolling Rose onto her side. My gaze travels her spine. Nothing. “Chelsea!”
“What?”
Blood pools beneath Rose’s ribs on the opposite side. “Get over here!”
“Kind of busy!” she replies, and I have to resist the annoyance. There’s more important things to deal with.
Shooting Bucky a look, I growl, “Get her over here. Kill Karson if you have to.” Rolling Rose gently onto her other side, I start to lift the shirt.
“How?” Bucky questions.
“Rose’s gun is hidden in the flour canister.” I jut my chin in the direction. She didn’t actually hide it from me, but giving her the illusion she got one up on me was an easy sacrifice for her to feel safe.
Rose wheezes a breath, a wet sucking sound shooting my terror through the roof. Blood leaks from her mouth, light and foamy, as her airway clears, breaths laboured and sputtering.
Bucky’s hesitant to leave my side, but follows orders. “Call Dr. Gellar,” I instruct.
Looking back to Rose, my breath stalls as fear like I’ve never known constricts around my chest. I place my palm over the bullet wound pierced through her back on the right side, crimson seeping out between my fingers.
Her eyes flutter open, my tension unwinding only slightly. “Rip?”
“I’m here,” I answer softly before shouting over my shoulder, “Chelsea, god fucking damn it, get over here!”
“Is Bucky okay?” she rasps, rolling onto her back, blood-tinged spit trailing from the side of her mouth.
“Yeah, baby, he’s perfect.” Her tight features relax, relief rolling through her.
A shot bangs through the kitchen, followed by Chelsea’s sorrowful wails.
“What’s—” Rose tries to sit up, words cut off as she hisses in agony.
“Please, don’t move. You’ve been shot.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
She nods, letting me aid her back to the floor.
Bucky rounds the corner, dragging Chelsea by the hair.
My pride momentarily swells. There’s the man I call when something’s too much for Kyle and I to handle ourselves.
Bucky shoves her in our direction. Chelsea slips as she tries to catch herself, landing hard on the unforgiving floor.
Her clothes are covered in gore, hands slick with blood, face sprayed with a healthy layer.
“What the fuck?” she shrieks. “What’s the point in me saving him if you’re just going to fucking shoot him? ”
“He shot your sister, his death was inevitable,” I answer.
“He sh—” Chelsea’s voice trails off, ocean eyes snapping to Rose wincing in pain. Her small hand is clasped in mine, as the other one tries to keep the blood in her body.
“Can you help her?”
“I-I-I…” Chelsea stutters, moving slowly to Rose’s injured side.
“Doctor’s on her way,” Bucky says over my shoulder.
I nod. “Hear that, flower? Help is coming, hold on.” She forces a smile, eyes falling shut as she tries to breathe through the agony.
Chelsea’s frozen like a deer in headlights, watching the rapid rise and fall of Rose’s chest, the shock finally taking hold.
Bucky leans down, hand loudly cracking off Chelsea’s cheek, knocking her to the floor. “Get your fucking head in the game,” he snarls. “Freeze up like this in the ER, and all your patients will die.”
Fuck, I could kiss him. Briefly, we lock eyes. “Thank you,” I mouth the words, and he nods.
“You fucking prick!” she growls. “I’m thinking!”
“Think fucking faster!”
Chelsea’s silent for a moment longer before snapping to attention, voice direct. “Plastic. I need plastic wrap.”
Bucky’s moving before I have to tell him where it is, sliding the drawer open and looking for the right box between the parchment paper and aluminum foil.
“Why?” I ask Chelsea as a way to distract Rose. Maybe by hearing what’s happening, she won’t be so scared…and neither will I.
“It sounds like she’s got a collapsed lung.
” Bucky passes her the roll of cling wrap, having found and pulled the end out so Chelsea wouldn’t have to search for it.
“Thank you,” she quietly says to him. Looking back to me, she answers my question, “I need to cover the wound to prevent more air from entering. It’s increasing the pressure in her chest.”
“What do I do?”
“You two need to support her while I wrap this around her.”
“I—” Rose barks another nasty cough, blood colouring her teeth. “I can do it,” she wheezes, face scrunched in pain. Her hand slips from mine, planting on the floor as she tries to sit up again.
Her eyes roll back. Though she fights to keep focus, she slips into unconsciousness again. “Rose?” I shout.
Chelsea presses her fingers to Rose’s limp wrist. “She just passed out, let’s move quickly. Ginger, you support her from the back.”
Bucky’s eyes narrow dangerously as he scowls at Chelsea. She pays him no mind, the thoracic-surgeon-in-training taking over fully.
Bucky supports Rose’s shoulders as I steady her at the waist, watching as Chelsea works with determination. The plastic slips and slides against Rose’s wet skin, making this process painfully slow.
Rose’s leaking blood works against her sister with every pump of her heart, but Chelsea doesn’t give up. Her eyes dart around the room, perseverance carved into the sharp contours of her face.
Reaching back, she rips a towel from the counter. Gently, she pats Rose’s skin dry the best she can. Chelsea blows her breath slowly across Rose’s flesh, and the blood becomes tacky, briefly making the plastic stick to my flower’s paling skin.
Chelsea smiles in triumph when the seal stays, wrapping the plastic around Rose’s torso again and again.
“Pillows,” she snaps, looking to Bucky, and pointing to the couch across the open concept room.
He returns with every cushion from the couch, and the accent pillows.
Quickly, Chelsea arranges them in a makeshift bed against the island. “Okay, you two, move her carefully, keep her upright.”
Chelsea moves out of the way, and Bucky takes her place. He mirrors my movements, sliding his hand beneath Rose’s knees, and one behind her back. Slowly, we shift across the slick floor.
Rose bucks in our hold, coming back to the present, howling in agony. My ears ring, chest caving in because there’s nothing I can do.
“Shhh, baby. You’re going to be okay.”
“It hurts,” she whines, a tear breaking from the corner of her eye.
“I know, just a bit longer. Chelsea patched you up, it’s all going to be okay.” Bucky and I lay her down on the cushions, a wince scrawling across her perfect face.
Gently, I brush the dark hair from her brow, placing a kiss to her temple.
Bucky slides back, allowing Chelsea to take his place next to her sister’s side. She takes Rose’s hand in hers.
Sirens ring in the distance. “I’m going to meet Phoebe when she gets here,” Bucky says, slipping from the room.
“Open the garage door,” I call out.
He doesn’t reply, but I hear the rattling of the heavy door rising.
Rose grips my hand. “What is it?”
She smiles through a hacking cough, “You’re my… highlight reel.”
“What?”
Chelsea cracks a sob, wiping her face with crimson stained hands. Her tears track through the blood, leaving white streaks down her cheeks. “I know, you’re mine too. I’m so sorry.”
“N-no,” Rose stammers, “you, Rip. It’s you.”
Pain and shock scrawl across Chelsea’s face, souring her sadness.
“What’s a fucking highlight reel?” I snap, not liking being out of the loop.
“It’s all of your best memories.” Chelsea replies, as the sirens wail louder, seconds counting down.
Her carefully crafted words slide like a key into a lock, and I look to my love lying before me. “Flower, don’t talk like that, you’re not fucking leaving me. You can’t. I just found you.”
Rose raises her other hand, and I catch it. Bringing it to my mouth, I place a long kiss. I work to hold back the emotions threatening to break through this flimsily constructed dam, it’s a battle I’m never going to win.
“I’ll find you again,” she whispers.
“You will, but not yet, we still have this life to live.”
The commotion outside peaks, vehicle doors slamming, Bucky shouting orders.
Looking to Rose, her head lolls, eyes falling shut. “You hear that, flower? They’re here. Help’s coming.”
Her lips barely move as she murmurs her response. “It’s okay, it doesn’t hurt anymore.”