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He lunged at me, and he was far stronger than he appeared. The acrid smell of gasoline burned in my nose as we fell hard to the floor, his fingers squeezing around my throat. I tried to fight, pressing my hands into his face and raking my nails over him. He was so heavy, and when he struck the side of my head, I saw stars.
Part of my brain, the part that seemed to watch all this happen from above, realized I was about to die. Not only was his hand strangling my breathing, but he was squeezing the sides of my neck, cutting off blood flow to my brain and...
He wasn’t stopping. He didn’t care. My struggles were growing weaker and he was too heavy, too strong. My ears were ringing, faintly, a far-away tone in a vast expanse of growing darkness.
There was a sound like something being struck. In my oxygen-deprived darkness, it made me think of a sack of meat being thrown against a brick wall.
Then air was rushing in my lungs again. Reagan’s hands were ripped away and there was yelling...so much yelling. My vision swam. I was so dizzy I thought I might be sick as I gasped for air, rolling onto my stomach and gagging. My hair dripped with gasoline; the harsh taste was in my mouth, all over my skin.
Suddenly, I was held, cradled, strong arms pulling me close.
“Breathe, Jess! Come on, baby, just breathe.” Vincent’s voice sounded like a dozen echos all sounding at once. My head lolled to the side, my vision blurry. My sopping hair was pushed out of my face, and I could hear Vincent’s heart pounding as I rested against him.
Blinking repeatedly, I tried to focus despite the chaos around me. The frantic scrambling, pounding, and yelling was an endless storm. Although blurry, I could see Manson on the ground, wedged into a corner against the kitchen cabinets. He had his arm locked around Reagan’s throat in a chokehold as Jason held down his legs. The man’s lips were swollen and blue, his eyes rolled back.
“Yes, we need a fucking ambulance! I don’t...Jesus fucking Christ, ma’am, the house is drenched in gasoline. How the fuck am I supposed to calm down?”
Lucas...poor Lucas...how had he gotten stuck being the one to call 911?
All the sounds kept fading in and out, like someone cranking a radio dial back and forth.
“Hey, baby, come on, open your eyes. Stay awake, okay? Keep breathing, deep breaths.”
Vincent’s voice sounded so nice, I wanted him to keep talking. The smell of gasoline was strong, it was inescapable. I needed more air. My gasps were too quick, they weren’t enough...
47 - Manson
Jessica’s eyes wereclosed. It was impossible to hear, think, or see anything else besides her, lying limp in Vincent’s arms as he tried to get her to stay awake.
“She passed out,” Jason said. His arm was outstretched toward me and he wasn’t holding my father’s legs anymore, which was foolish. But maybe I wasn’t hearing him correctly, because I thought he was talking about Jess, but he kept saying, “He passed out, Manson! He’s out. You’re going to kill him.”
He had to physically pry my arm loose from my father’s neck. As much as my thoughts were racing, it was like my brain was functioning at half the speed. My father fell limply beside me as my arm loosened, a bag of bones when he slumped to the floor.
Dead...or passed out...it didn’t matter.
Nothing else mattered.
