Jess

I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience.

One minute, Misty was getting into the car, her face bright with glee, my mind twisting with anger and rage at her.

The next, she was lying on the muddy dirt, her low, guttural scream almost inaudible after the bang of the gun.

I was stuck in sludge, the riot of feelings, the utter disbelief making me feel frozen.

But Sean moved.

One second he was holding me, keeping me from going after her. In the next he had charged toward the car.

I heard another shot, or at least I thought I did, but I didn’t look to the sound.

Instead, in a daze I walked toward Misty, moving slow, or at least it felt that way. But I reached her in less than two seconds.

“Stay with her, Jess!”

Hearing his voice confirmed that Sean was okay, so I kept my eyes on Misty. I heard one set of squealing tires, then another, but I paid them no attention either. Instead I dropped down, reached for Misty’s hand.

She was clenching her stomach, thick blood bubbling through her fingers. I laid my hand on hers and pushed down, my own stomach clenching, bile rising in my throat as her warm blood began to cover my hand.

“We’ll just put some pressure on it. It’ll be okay,” I said to Misty.

I surprisingly sounded convinced, and I wanted to be.

Thirty seconds ago I had wanted to strangle her with my bare hands, but now that she was bleeding, I realized that I didn’t want her to die. Not like this. Not before we got to make things right.

I told her as much.

“You have to be fine, Misty. There are things we have to talk about,” I said.

She smiled, and it took everything in me not to collapse when I saw the blood that stained her teeth.

“What do we have to talk about, Jess?” she asked, her voice weak but still Misty.

“A lot,” I said.

“Like what? Like how much of a fuck-up I am? Like how much better it would’ve been if I wasn’t in the picture at all?” she said.

“Misty, you know I don’t believe that.”

“Well maybe you should. And maybe I do believe it,” she said.

“Don’t talk like that,” I scolded.

“I’m the one dying, and you’re still telling me what to do,” she said on a giggle that turned into a cough.

“Misty, you know I love you,” I said.

“Yeah, I do,” she replied without hesitation.

“So hang on for me. And for Jake,” I said.

“He doesn’t love me. You never let him,” she said.

There was such bitterness in her voice, such scorn that I was taken aback. I squeezed her hand, pressed down on her wound harder.

“None of that matters right now, Misty,” I said, getting frantic. Trying my best to hide it. “Just hang on. We can talk about this later. After the doctors have had a chance to look at you.”

“God, you really believe that. For a while there I thought you were faking it, but you really do think you want me to live,” she said.

“Of course I want you to live. You’re the only family I have,” I said, my voice teary now.

“Not anymore, Jess. You get my son now. For real. You get his father too. You should be happy. I’m dying, and now you’ll get everything you ever wanted,” she said.

Her words were calm, matter-of-fact. All the more devastating because of it.

“Misty, you’re not dying,” I said.

She smiled slightly, but the look in her eyes made me shiver. It was something like love, more than a little hate, and most of all, satisfaction.

“I am dying, Jess. So take it all, and be happy. But don’t ever forget that you’re just a stand-in. You can have it, but it will never truly be yours.”

She went quiet then, and I stayed frozen, holding her hand as tight as I could as the last of her life bled from her.