T W E N T Y-F I V E Lie In It
Sarah’s POV
I rode in the police car while it followed the ambulance carrying Devereaux to the hospital.
I held my breath the whole way, unable to do or say more than nod, shake my head, or offer up strangled noises that sounded like some kind of words, but definitely not English.
I couldn’t think straight. I kept replaying that moment and what came after in my head, when she kept squeezing the trigger, and the cracking sound coming from the gun.
Crack.
Crack.
Crack.
Crack.
Crack.
I closed my eyes and covered my ears like a coward. I crouched down, trying to make myself as small as possible. When the sounds were over, I heard the thundering of feet and shouting.
“Police!”
“Drop the weapon!”
“Hands on your head!”
“Don’t move!”
Once I heard the handcuffs clicking in place around her wrists, I slowly stood up.
I looked around, and Row was still standing.
Turning, I saw that Will had been shot at least once, his white shirt quickly being discolored red.
He stumbled into an officer, who promptly helped him.
I turned back to look at Row, who still hadn’t really moved, and started to walk to him.
My heels clicking on the marble floors were the only thing I could hear.
He moved his head like he was looking to find me when he stumbled.
Like turning his head had made him dizzy.
I hurried to steady him. He quickly went to his knees before passing out.
I turned him over and started pulling his jacket off him.
No.
No.
No.
No!
No!
His shirt and pants were turning a deep shade of red that I knew could not be compatible with a long life.
Which he promised me. I got to work. I used my shawl and shoe to fashion a tourniquet around his leg to stop the blood loss.
Then I ripped part of my dress off and used his jacket to stem the flow to the two places on his arm and shoulder where he was shot.
The door opened next to me, pulling me from my memory that was looping the whole drive. The officer who drove offered me his hand like he was trying to coax a wild animal out of his car. I looked around and saw that we were at the ambulance bay entrance.
“Let’s go. I’ll get you in to see him as soon as he’s able to have visitors,” he looked like he was making a pinky promise as a kid, and I didn’t know if I could trust that kind of commitment right now. Part of me wanted to be alone. Part of me wanted his parents. Oh shit!
His parents! The boys!
“Is there anyone you need me to call? I’m off duty, so I’ll stay with you. I clarified with my boss that I can keep the vehicle until I can drop you off at home, or someone can come get you. Even if that takes a few hours.” His smile was kind, and he looked like a kid, younger than me.
“OK, um, his parents? They’re in my phone,” was all I could manage as I took his hand and let him lead me in.
I didn’t hear much of what he said, but soon enough, nurses were checking me out, getting vitals, making sure I wasn’t hit with a bullet.
It was the not knowing that was killing me, though.
I just wanted to get to wherever Row was.
I wanted to know that he was alright. I wanted to check on him; I needed to see for myself that he was going to be okay.
The officer waited for a few hours in the waiting room with me.
When the staff came to tell me he was out of surgery, the officer walked me up, telling the staff he wanted to try to ask him a few questions.
He got us into recovery, stayed for a few minutes, and after unsuccessfully rousing Row, he left.
I was holding his hand when a groggy-sounding groan came from the bed next to me.
“Please, Row. Please, handsome. Wake up,” I whispered as I squeezed his hand. Tears fell from my eyes. I pressed my forehead to the back of his hand.
“Sarah?” I froze. There was no way. No fucking way! I looked over my shoulder, and I wanted to rage. I wanted to stick my finger in his bullet hole. I thought about wishing him endless, random bursts of diarrhea for the rest of his life.
“Leave. Me. Alone. William.” I gritted out. I didn’t want to talk to him. I didn’t want to look at him. I didn’t even want him to breathe the same oxygen as me.
“You don’t have to say anything. I’ll talk,” I closed my eyes, pissed that he would assault my ears with his voice. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything. I was an absolute idiot.”
“You think?”
“She’s crazy, Sarah. I think she started drugging me.
I started losing bits of time, and it was going on for a couple of weeks.
I couldn’t figure out what was going on until I fell asleep at a friend's house and woke up feeling fine. That was when I realized I’d been losing pockets of time.
I started faking drinking a regular nightcap, then got rid of it altogether.
She bought the excuse that I wanted to get healthier for her and Cece. ”
“Listen, William. Let’s cut to the chase.
You want me to feel bad that you finally discovered what her particular brand of crazy was and didn’t like it?
Guess what? I don’t feel bad. I don’t feel a fucking thing for you!
But let me tell you something. There’s a fine line between passionate and psychotic, and you’ve got one guess which one she is!
They both start with P, but there is a fucking difference!
You only want me because your whole life, you’ve always wanted what you couldn’t have, or what someone else had.
You have never been satisfied with what you do have, and that’s why you’ll never be happy.
You were too busy playing some sick little game, thinking you were winning at life, without telling the rest of us, making us ‘casualties’ in your bullshit.
” I spit out in anger. It was all me, me, me that came out of his mouth.
Him!
“Get your bitch on a leash! She comes near me or my family again, I’ll make sure she doesn’t get back up.
” I didn’t shout, I just let all the ice in my veins come out of my mouth, seeping into my words so he wouldn’t second-guess my meaning.
I hadn’t bothered to look at him once. Taking a breath, I tried to calm myself.
“I used to think I’d never get over you,” I heard him suck in a breath, “I used to be worried that you were the best it was going to get. But my therapist helped me see that you just wanted the perfect image. You didn’t want me.
You didn’t want the boys. You just wanted to look like the perfect family man,” I looked at Row laying there, praying he’d wake up.
“You knew he loved me back then,” it wasn’t a question.
We had talked about it. Row told me he confronted Will, that he had seen the way Will still looked at other women, instead of keeping his eyes firmly on me.
“You should have known you can’t be a cake-eater forever, Will.
It all comes out in the wash. Your washing just came clean sooner than you planned. Now, you’ve made your bed.”
I turned to look at him, one final time.
“Lie in it.”
I closed the curtain, giving Row my full attention, ignoring the muffled sobs coming from his side.