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My eyes clashed with Trooper. I had seen him around The Strip and knew he and Koah raced a lot. He was getting on his bike, ready to flee the riot slowly building around us. I didn’t know him well, but I knew Koah did, and at that moment, that was good enough for me. My only concern was getting Gracie away from The Strip.
“Trooper!” I called out, shoving Gracie in his direction.
He paused, his eyes wide.
“Take my sister with you, please. Get her out of here.”
“No, Tori! I’m not leaving you.” She gripped me, keeping me from pushing her toward his bike.
I pulled her hands from my shirt and grabbed her by the shoulders.
“Let him take you to the apartment. I’m right behind you. I promise.”
Tears filled her eyes. “You promise, promise?”
I nodded, panic reaching its cold fingers into my gut and squeezing. “I promise, promise.”
She hugged me tight, backed away, and got onto the back of Trooper’s bike.
“Take care of my sister,” I called out, my heart pounding.
He nodded. “If I don’t, Koah will kill me.”
Then they took off, and I watched them ride away until they disappeared down the exit of The Strip. Spinning around, I moved toward Koah, ready to take care of him next.
He was beating Donald, blood flying everywhere. If he didn’t stop, he would kill him. One minute, I was screaming for him to stop, and the next, I was on his back, pulling him off Donald.
Once he paused and pulled me into his arms, everything else faded until Joker’s voice broke through my haze, starting another fight. Except this time, it was going to be between Koah and Joker. I could see it in how Joker glared back at Koah and me, holding each other.
Donald’s movement from the corner of my eye made me look his way. Even though Joker and Koah were about to have it out, thanks to me, I couldn’t take my eyes off Donald. He was lying on the ground, bleeding, having gotten his ass beaten by Koah. His face was nearly unrecognizable, his blood dripping onto the asphalt around him, yet it didn’t feel like enough. I had stopped Koah from killing him, but inside, a tiny part of me wanted to see him suffer more than just a beating.
That was when I saw the gun. Koah and Joker weren’t paying attention, and when Donald lifted it, barely able to see, and pointed toward Joker instead of Koah, I moved without thinking.
I didn’t hear the shots; at first, I felt nothing. It was strange that Joker held me so closely and that his smile was gone. Then the fire came, spreading through my back like I was being burned alive.
I screamed, the pain engulfing me swiftly and pulling me under. I fought to stay awake while Joker yelled at me.
“Don’t you fucking die on me, girl.” Joker’s voice ripped through my consciousness. “Stay with me. I’ve got you.”
Blood filled my mouth, and I tried to swallow but choked instead, spurting blood all over the front of Joker’s shirt.
“I’m sorry,” I said, but the words came out whispered and broken.
Why I was worried about the blood on Joker’s shirt was beyond me.
I was lifted, my face tucked into his shoulder, and the world around me faded slowly, blinking in and out. I heard someone call for Koah, his name echoing around me in my voice, but I didn’t remember saying it. Then there was nothing, and blackness swallowed me whole.
36
Saint
Tori’sheartmonitorechoedthrough the room. The repetitive sound would have been annoying had it not been the most beautiful noise I had ever heard. As long as that monitor beeped, she was still with me—her soul was still mine even though I wasn’t deserving. I watched the monitor above her—a bright screen filled with zigzagging lines, numbers, and other information I didn’t understand—and seeing her heartbeat flash across the screen soothed me.
When we got her to the hospital, she was rushed into surgery. It was touch and go, but after removing two bullets from her tiny body, one of which had hit her right lung, she was fighting to stay alive. They said it was a miracle that the bullets missed her heart and spine. The surgeon said it hit soft tissue, but another inch to the left, and it would have hit her heart. They said her being alive was a blessing, but I knew my girl. She wasn’t one to go down easily. She had fought since the moment I disrupted her life. Fought in foster care. Fought to keep her and Gracie afloat. She wasn’t going to fold.
But as I sat there watching her, her eyes closed and a machine breathing for her, I wished I could bring Donny B. back to life so I could kill him slower. I wished I could press rewind and take the bullets—stop him or do it all over again—anything to have a different outcome.
My heart hurt. I kept rubbing at my chest, thinking it would relieve the pain, but it didn’t help. It was jagged and cutting, taking my breath away and making me feel like something was crushing my chest. I couldn’t lose her. I would never survive it. If she went, I would follow.
