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I look around the room, searching for Santiago.
There.
I see an ugly as fuck looking pair of fancy leather shoes underneath a wine rack. Using my hands, I grip different objects as I drag myself across the ground on my stomach, doing my best to avoid the shards of glass. Another cough rips from me, and blood splatters across my palms.
Well, that’s not good.
It feels like my body has been through a stampede. My body feels broken and bruised, bloody and busted more than it’s ever been.
But I’m alive.
I make my way to the wine rack, grabbing onto the cold metal and with all my strength, pulling it off Santiago’s body.
He lays there, staring at the ceiling. He blinks, and blinks again. Pain radiates in his stare. Blood coats his lips, and each breath he takes creates a whistling sound in his lungs.
Sounds like his lungs are filling with blood.
I sit next to him, pressing my back against the wall as I stare at him.
“Sounds like you don’t have much time left.” I say to him. He says nothing, but his breathing picks up, making me realize he hears me.
“I’m in pretty rough shape too, if you can believe it.Fuck, I feel busted up.” I cough and spit, ridding the dust that’s filling my lungs. It’s difficult to breathe in here. “But I’m going to make it home, you know? I’m going back to her.” I let enough silence ensue where he turns his head slightly, looking over at me. “Ivy. I’m going back to Ivy. She’ll be my old lady. I’ll be a good dad to Lilah.” His nostrils flare at that. “And someday, I’ll put a ring on Ivy’s finger and put a baby in her belly.” His lips move, blood dribbling out of them and onto the concrete below him. “And you’ll be dead. You’ll be dead and nothing but a sick memory for all of us.” I lean my head back and catch my breath.
We sit there in silence for a while, saying nothing. Just breathing in pain and thinking of memories and what’s to come.
Santiago’s breathing slows, and I can imagine he’s nearing death. The rattling in his chest grows louder, to the point I almost feel bad for the guy.
No, actually. That’s not true at all.
I roll over so I’m up on my knees above him. I want to be the last thing he sees in this world. I want to be the last thing on his mind.
“I want you to know…” I wheeze, “Ivy… she has never been yours. She will never be yours. You’re nothing but an old, sick fuck who preys on kids. When you’re in hell and looking up at us, you’ll see that you’re forgotten. Your name won’t be spoken from our lips. Thoughts of you won’t even cross our minds. You’re about to take your last breath, and when that moment comes, that’s when you will cease to exist. Now, in the past, and in the future. You’ll neverbe, ever again.”
A flicker of fear passes his gaze and mouth opens, as if he wants to say something.
I stare at him.
He stares at me.
And when his chest expands with a sharp inhale, I watch his body still, his body relaxing into the rubble beneath him. I sit back against the wall, wincing with each movement. But once my back hits the cement behind me, I release the first real breath since I met Ivy. Since I rescued her.
I don’t know how long I sit there, fading in and out of sleep as my body attempts to cope with the pain. It becomes too much at times, and I grunt and wince as the pain becomes unbearable.
It’ll go away. It has to go away.
After I’m not sure how many hours have passed, I hear voices from above, combing through the rubble.
My eyes widen.
Fuck.
They can’t see me. If they see me, they’ll kill me. But they can’t find Santiago either. Because if they find him, they’ll take him.
And I’m not quite finished with him yet.
I grab onto his shoulders and drag him across the glass, into a corner that has been blasted out from the explosion. It takes most of my energy, and I’m past winded by the time I lay on top of him and lay one of the stray metal racks on top of us.
The voices grow louder. It sounds like they are kicking things around and lifting things.
