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I’m alright. I can’t produce the words.
“Take a big breath.”
I inhale a lungful. Adrenaline still surges and courses through my veins. Heat bathes me under my winter jacket.
Akara comes over, seeing my state of unease. “You don’t have to go any further.”
On instinct, I shake my head. “…I need to shoot at least once.” I take another breath. Quitting isn’t in me today. I don’t want to have fear in me either.
Banks holds out the gun.
My fingers slip around the grip. When he lets go, it feels heavy in my hand. I can do this.
I can fucking do this.
I line up, facing the haybales and bottles. Glass and half-cracked bottles already scatter the snow. Akara broke 2 out of his 3 shots. Eight bottles are still whole.
Beside me, Banks says, “Beat Akara.”
My lips rise. Goals. I love making them. I fucking love completing them. “You ready to go down, Kits?” I talk some trash.
He smiles near Banks. “I’m not worried.”
Game on. I concentrate. After fitting my earmuffs back on, I check the magazine and rack the Glock so a bullet enters the chamber. My mouth dries as I raise the gun.
Beat Akara.
Weight on my body.
Warm blood.
Pain.
Beat Akara.
The gun trembles in my grip. “Fuck,” I curse.
Banks’ body melds behind me, arms stretched against my arms, and his hands fit over my hands. “Just breathe, Sulli,” he says, loudly enough to hear through the earmuffs.
I relax against his strength. Inhaling through my nose, I squeeze the safety that lies against the trigger. My stomach cramps.
More weight starts bearing on my breastbone. Everything seems to spin. Why is this so fucking hard?! Just shoot!
I shift my stance, feeling Banks.
His body against my body brings me back to the present.
Focus.
Concentrate.
I don’t want this fear.
Like Banks says, pack it up and ship it away.
Please.
Please.
I pull the trigger.
A shell flies from the chamber, and the force against my hand is an electric shock. I’m quaking, and Banks wiggles the gun out of my grip. Away from me.
I press a fist to my forehead. “Fuck.”
I struggle to breathe a full breath.
Akara comes over quickly. “Sul?”
Banks slides my earmuffs to my neck. “Talk to us…” He cups my cheek.
“I…that…” I inhale sharply. “That did not feel good.”
Banks unloads the magazine. “Baby steps, mermaid. You’re still getting the hang of your feet on land again.”
I wince. “I want this feeling fucking gone. Like today.”
Akara pulls me into a hug. I hang on tight as he says, “You can’t jump into the deep-end on this one, Sul.”
Banks lightly taps my temple. “You have some post-trauma. It’s not gonna resolve itself in a day.”
I swallow, contemplating their words. Pulling out of the hug, I inhale one more breath. “Practice makes perfect, right?” I’m great at training towards hard goals, but fuck, even picturing shooting another bullet sends panic. “I think…I think baby steps are good.” Fifteen-year-old Sulli would choke at that statement and say, who fucking are you? Kick your ass into high-gear—get it done.
I can’t.
Banks nods strongly to me. He was true to his promise of pushing me a little but not too much. “You did a lot, Sulli.”
I did?
“You’re not failing,” Akara says too. “Sometimes slow is good.”
I smile. “Like how slow you were to admit you want your P in my V?”
Banks laughs. “I’m gonna remember this.”
Akara nods, smiling, then blows the whistle. “Foul play.”
“Hey, I spoke the fucking truth!”
We’re all grinning.
And I totally forgot about whether I broke a bottle with my one shot. As I glance to the haybale, seeing only two bottles broken (both from Akara), I mutter, “Cumfuck.”
Akara suddenly steals my beanie and messes my hair.
“Kits!” I roar into a smile, and I attempt to retrieve my beanie. He holds the hat up over my head. “Banks,” I call out. My boyfriend lifts me up by the waist, giving me a boost. I’m able to snatch my beanie back in no time.
Akara blows his whistle. “Interference from Player Two.”
I extend my arms. “We’re just taking a page from Player One and playing dirty.”
We joke and laugh on our way to the blanket and heaters near the oak tree. Curled under a quilt between Akara and Banks, I flip open the picnic basket.
Knock knock.
Knock knock.
The sound steals happiness and smiles.
They pull out their cellphones with vigilant gazes. I hold my knees to my chest, wishing we could just ignore the leaks and eat lunch, but the uncertainty of “what leaked?” would hang uncomfortably.
And they can’t ignore security threats.
Their whole duty is to keep me safe.
I peer around Akara’s shoulder to read.
THE ROYAL LEAKS
We reveal all the truths about the American Royals. These are verified and come directly from the source.
ROYAL LEAK #1: Sullivan Meadows ate a chocolate donut made with milk and eggs.
ROYAL LEAK #2: Thatcher Moretti cheated on his wife with another woman.
#TodaysLeaks #VeganNoMore #cheaters #SisterBetrayal #HusbandBetrayal
