Wrong.
I turn…
Matt has Cullen trapped against his chest, one arm locked around his throat, and the gun jammed against the side of Cull’s head.
My stomach drops so violently that I nearly throw up.
Cull claws at Matt’s arm, silent tears streaking down his face as he struggles for air.
“Look what you’re making me do,” Matt says hoarsely, the gun shaking against Cullen’s skull.
“I tried so hard, Hudson.” His face falls. “I just wanted to be seen.Wanted.”
“Matt, please.” My voice breaks. “Please don’t do this.”
Cull’s face is turning red.
“When he’s gone,” Matt says, almost pleading now, “you’ll finally see me.”
His breathing turns ragged.
“Please. Please just see me.”
“I do,” I croak. “I do, okay? Just put the gun down.”
Matt shakes his head violently.
“Why?” he cries. “If I can’t have you, then I have nothing!” Spit flies from his mouth, teeth bared. “Do you know what that feels like?”
“I do, Matt.” I take a slow step forward. “More than you realize.”
“No, you don’t!”
His grip tightens around Cullen’s throat, pulling a horrible choking sound from him.
“Your parents love you,” Matt spits. “Your friends love you.”
“We’re your friends,” I say quickly. “We’ve always been friends.”
My voice shakes so badly it barely sounds like mine.
“We care about you, Matt.”
Cullen winces, the gun digging into his temple.
“Please,” I rasp. “Please just let him go.”
“You still don’t get it,” Matt growls.
“Yes, I do. We can fix this. We can get you help.”
The gun vibrates harder in Matt’s grip.
“That’s what people do when they love someone, right? I say desperately. “They help them.”
Something in Matt’s expression breaks, his eyes hollowing out.
“I can’t leave here now,” he whispers.
