Page 77 of Was I Ever Free


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Walls shaking.

Shouts outside the door.

Voices and footsteps getting fainter and fainter.

Silence.

I’m so far inside my mind that it takes me forever to even piece that together. Or maybe I never do. The last thing I do remember clearly is more drugs being forced into my veins.

White cloak. Needle in the skin. Locked door.

That same door now blasts open.

Or I think it does.

I don’t bother to open my one good eye, my chin too heavy to lift up from my chest.

A few voices enter the room. One I recognize most of all.

“Jesus Christ,” Connor hisses. “What the fuck did they do to him?”

His voice is disembodied. Nothing is real. Not even him. It can’t be him.

I listen to Connor talk about chains—my chains—while I fall deeper into the dark abyss of my mind.

I take a long blink, and suddenly we’re out in the hallway. Connor isn’t just a voice anymore. His body holds me up, my arm around his shoulder while he keeps me standing, holding on to my waist. My head is still too heavy to lift, so I stare—painfully—at my feet, half walking, half dragged.

But then there’s a shout and I force myself to look.

My father. No. Lee?

Lee is holding someone by the neck, close to his chest like a shield.

The face is vaguely familiar, his eyes locked on mine.

Barker?

I might have said his name out loud.

Connor’s gun is louder.

The bullet rips through Barker’s neck, the blood spraying against the wall with the impact.

He goes limp, falling to the ground at the same time as Lee.

Connor shot them both?

Connor shot them both.

But Lee is still alive, groaning loudly as Connor screams for me to hold on.

Just fucking hold on.

His gun fires one more round. This time the bullet finds Lee’s head.

Silence. Heavy breathing. My feet dragging over two dead bodies.

I take one last slow blink and I’m outside, Connor’s arms still holding onto me.

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