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Of course, she started to panic and ramble. I needed my brother and I needed Calliope And they couldn’t get in until she fucking opened the door and stepped out.
“Wife, I need you first to keep calm, go upstairs, clean up as best as you can—”
“Ethan!”
“LISTEN TO ME!” I yelled, more because I hated the way she said my name with fear, with pain. It proved she didn’t trust my plans, my vision, my mind.
I could barely hear or remember the words I was saying to her but finally the fearful, teary, child-like woman disappeared, and she got up and ran off.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, knowing she wouldn’t hear. I’d broken my promise. I’d manipulated her again. What a sad life she had. From beginning to end she was just a pawn. I closed my eyes, feeling myself drift off.
“You’re apologizing to her?”
My eyes snapped back open to find a pair of grey eyes staring back at me. She wore a scowl on her face.
“La mia anima.”
CALLIOPE - AGE 26
Boston, Massachusetts
Wednesday, September 20th
“La mia anima,” he said so happily and with such a genuine smile I couldn’t help but smile back. How he still managed to be so damn handsome while covered in blood was a mystery to me.
“You should be apologizing me,” I said to him as I opened my bag, pulling out a vial and a syringe. I filled the syringe, tapping it once, the red liquid coming out before I pushed his head to the side and injecting it in his neck.
“Forgive me, I’m not in my right mind right now,” he whispered with a smile on his face. He reached up touching my cheek with his bloody hand. “You’re like an angel.”
“Are you dying or high?” I couldn’t help but kiss his lips gently. “Your parents are outside. They’re in disguise. Your father is playing firefighter and your mother a doctor.”
His eyes widened, and his jaw cracked to the side. I nodded, knowing what he was going to say.
“I got photos. You are right. I know you knew you were right, but now there can never be even the slightest doubt. They are alive. So what do you want me to do?”
“Let…them go…everything is a bit messy now,” he said softly, starting to drift off.
“I understand.” A reunion with him bleeding out on the ground was not how he wanted to meet them. I took his hands, kissing them. “Fine. But Ivy fucked up.”
“Kill her,” he demanded, closing his eyes.
Before I could say anything, I heard the door and got up, hurrying to the closet.
“Ethan!” Ivy screamed as she dropped to her knees next to him on the brink of tears. I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they’d fall out of my head.
“Ethan, look, I got him. I got Wyatt. Ethan, open your eyes, come on. Wyatt, help him!” She went on with her crying.
How Ethan managed her voice was beyond me. He really convinced her he loved her.
I looked at Wyatt who was frozen with guilt. Luckily, he got over it quickly. Bending down next to him, he mentioned taking Ethan to a hospital and I put my hand on my head.
Wyatt, when are you going to be who he needs you to be?
“Then fix him! Save him!” Ivy screamed. That’s what she did, screamed and cried. It was pathetic. “Did you forget who you are? Who he is? He’s a Callahan! You’re both Callahans. How bad will it look if he goes out like this, barely hanging on? He knew you’d be out there. He told me to find you. So, I did. Shot…and…ugh…” she cried. I bit back a groan.
Nice speech.
“Ivy—” Wyatt stopped when she rested her head on Ethan’s chest…his bleeding chest. Bloody fucking moron.
