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He turns his head slowly.
Nods at me. Flashes his smile that I love so much. Mouths, “I love you.”
Then he slumps over…
Dropping like an iron anchor to the ocean floor.
He’s dead.
Chapter 29
~BEFORE~
There aren’t…
There aren’t…
There aren’t words to describe the amount of pain I’m in. I lunge for Damien, slipping and sliding in his blood, and sweep him up in my arms. I hold him. Rock him. Sob for him. “Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Please.” This isn’t real. I know it’s not.
I slap his beautiful, peaceful face. Once. Twice. Three times. Still nothing.
I rest my palm flat against his cheek. The warmth is fading from his skin, along with the color. He’s cold. Clammy. Like he’s just been put in the icebox so he doesn’t spoil.
“Why?” I scream at him. “Why did you do that?” Tears pour from my eyes. “Why?” I’m waiting for an answer that I know is never going to come.
My fingers flit over the gunshot wound on his chest. Right next to his heart. I wait, thinking that maybe it will still be beating. I’m in denial and I know it, but I can’t accept what just happened. I don’t think I ever will.
Reality drills through my skull and seeps into my brain.
There’s nothing. He’s really dead.
I hunch over his body, holding him as tight as I can to keep my arms from trembling. I cry into his stomach, and on top of the bitter scent of blood, I get a whiff of his musky cologne that lingers on his shirt. Then I lose it all over again.
I lift my eyes, rimmed in red, tears cascading down my pale cheeks and glimpse at the spot where Daddy was standing. He’s disappeared and he took his gun with him. Part of me is glad about this and another part of me is not. I’m glad because I’ve never had a bad temper, but after Daddy mentioning what he might have done to Mommy and then him killing Damien well, I’ve never wanted to murder him so bad in my entire life. Another part of me wishes he was still here, so I could snatch the shotgun from his grasp, shoot myself, and join Damien wherever he is because dying for the man I love sounds better than the painful reality called hell that I’m living right now.
I’m losing it. I’m losing it. I’m losing it .
Time passes.
I’m not sure how much.
Maybe hours. Maybe minutes.
I’ve started hallucinating.
Yes , my subconscious hisses. Why?
Because Damien is alive there. He’s not dead. He’s lying in my arms, smiling up at me a twinkle in his cool shades of blue. Then he’s playing with my hair, twisting a midnight colored tendril around the tip of his finger.
I blink and the beautiful fantasy is gone.
I keep telling myself it will return. I keep telling myself if I just wait it out, I’ll see him again.
My mind is playing tricks on me, but I tell myself that it’s okay. It’s okay that I pretend Damien is alive, lying next to me. It’s okay that I pretend he’s sleeping and that his chest is rising up and down. Anything is better than facing reality. Facing the truth. That he’s…that he’s…that he’s…
No. I shake my head and bury it in the crook of Damien’s neck. Don’t even think it. I can’t. If I do, I’ll fall apart all over again.
Someone calls the cops and Damien’s parents. I’m not sure who called them, nor do I care. Damien’s mother, Marlena, is hysterical. She yanks me from the floor by my shoulders and shakes me. I’ve tuned out the sound of her voice. I’m comatose, staring at the blood on the floor. And Damien’s body. Marlena slaps me across the face and tells me this is all my fault and that snaps me out of the trance-like state I was in. Pain sears in my cheek and I can feel blood and warmth rising to the surface. There’s probably a welt. I don’t care. I can’t react to it.
