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"NO!" I screamed, keeping a death grip on the weapon I quickly realized I didn't even know how to use. I hunched over it, curled up into the pavement, willing the police to get through the maze of streets to where we were.
Messina clawed at my arms, twisting my body around. His hands were ruthless as he worked to pry the gun away from me, forcing me open to him, as he leveraged his body weight over mine in a parody of the rape he'd tried to perpetrate the last time we had met.
"Get OFF ME!" I shrieked at the top of my lungs, causing Messina to grimace. "HELP!"
"Fuckin' bitch!" he screamed.
He reached his fist back, and I knew without a doubt that against the concrete, he was aiming for death, not just a knock-out. I twisted. He lunged. And somewhere in the fray, the gun went off.
With a wheezing gulp of air, Messina collapsed on top of me, holding his stomach while blood almost immediately slithered out of his open mouth.
The rest was a torrent of sound, touch, and smell. My vision blurred from tears, fear, rage, and everything else. So I could only hear the blaring sirens when the squad cars pulled up, the sharp slams of their doors as the officers raced to the scene. I could only feel the sudden rush of fresh air over my body when Messina's body was lifted from on top of me, particularly over the wet spot left by his blood. I could only smell the starchy scent of the officer's uniform.
It was only as I was led to a seat in the back of an open squad car that I could see one thing clearly: the sight of Brandon's immobilized body, strapped to a gurney, being lifted into the back of an ambulance. The doors shut behind him. I couldn't breathe.
~
