Page 187 of Split You Open

He’s not.

The only thing in the trunk is me.

My heart sinks. Where is he? Did he manage to escape once he fell out of the window or is he somewhere nearby in the same predicament as I am? I squeeze my eyes shut as I try not to picture him hurt and tied up like me.

For the entirety of my life, I always feared that Dad’s job would get him killed. As the only member of my family, I knew if I lost him, I’d have no one. Well, that’s not exactly true. Up until six years ago, I knew that if I needed him, Ledger would be there—no matter what. It wasn’t until after that kiss that I realized I might’ve blown that solid, unwavering relationship into smithereens. Ultimately, Ledger wasn’t family. Dad was… is.

I can’t lose him.

Please don’t be here… I beg in my head as I struggle to get free of my bindings. The attempt is weak at best. My vision blurs again and my body wants so desperately to go slack. Moving my arms jostles the wound in my chest and I fight the urge to cry out in agony. It doesn’t help that the trunk feels like it’s spinning around.

Why do I feel so out of it?

I lift my head to look around, wondering if I’m missing something. That’s when I realize beneath me, my blood has soaked into the carpet. There’s a lot of it. That would explain why I feel so weak and lightheaded. Sure, being struck on the back of the head might’ve been the original cause of the headache that’s pounding in my skull but this weakness in my limbs? The grogginess? That’s because I’m slowly bleeding to death.

Choking down a whimper of fear at being so helpless and weak, I continue to attempt to rotate my wrists to find some sort of give to pull an arm free.

I give up as I start to give myself rope-burn.

Okay, if I can’t escape, I can at least try to get some answers as to where I am and what the hell is going on. I attempt to lift my head, but I can’t see out the tinted windows at whoever is lingering nearby.

“Hey,” I call out, my words a little slurred still. “Any chance you want to let me go?”

There’s a huff before the sound of footsteps alert me that someone’s coming. A minute later, a man somewhere in his early twenties appears. He’s got a buzz cut, clean shaven face, and a fit figure. He probably is, or was, military. The tactical gear he’s wearing is covered in dried blood. I wonder if it’s his, mine, or one of the bodies that lay in the Navarro house.

He pulls the cigarette from his lips and blows smoke at me.

“Naw, I think I’m good. Especially since grabbing you earned me a hefty paycheck,” he drawls. Tilting his head, he gives me a cold smirk. “But… if you give me a blowjob, I’ll stall the boss for another twenty minutes for you.”

I pretend to consider the offer for a minute before shaking my head. “Naw, I think I’ll die with dignity. Thanks, though.”

He shrugs. “Your loss.”

Is it, though? I roll my eyes.

“Is my dad around?” I ask, switching gears.

“Naw, fucker got away.” The guy takes another drag of his cigarette. “We’ll get him. Don’t worry. You’ll see each other in hell real soon.”

Relief floods through me.

He got away.

I won’t have to worry about him now as I face a bleak, and possibly short future.

“How many of your guys ended up dead?” I ask, curiously.

The question earns me a dark glare. “Too many.”

I smile, or try to, at least. I’m so fucking tired that I can barely feel my face. “You should be thanking me.”

“Oh yeah, why’s that?” he drawls.

“Because I weeded out the shitty ones for you.”

“Brent wasn’t a shitty soldier! Neither was Mikey or Jason!” he snaps. “God, I can’t wait to bury your fucking body and get the hell out of this shithole of a town.”

“Oh, so I’m just better than all the dead guys I left behind. Cool, good to know,” I taunt before letting out a weak laugh.