Emily
Entry Wound
To feel pain and not be able to make a sound is a strange phenomenon. I want to scream and plead, but all I can do is gape at the beautiful man above me who begs me to relax and hold on.
I splutter. It feels as though the bullet is making its way through my blood like poison, killing me slowly. From the wound in my back, I can feel my life flow out of me and pool on the ground, happy to seep into the earth and give back to Mother Nature.
I let my head fall to the left to see Skull, to watch him die. If God existed at all, he’d keep me alive long enough to let me have this. Skull clenches his stomach with one hand and stretches the other one out toward me, but Jai holds me away from it, away from Skull, as if his very touch will drag me down to hell.
Skull’s dark, inked lips move and he utters a name that isn’t mine. Over and over he calls me Andrea, begging to hold me, to touch me. Tears well in his eyes as blood seeps from his lips and suddenly, he doesn’t look as scary or as threatening as I remember. In fact, I wonder what I found so terrifying about this peculiar man in the first place.
He’s human like the rest of us after all. The thought sends a cold zing of delight through me.
In his thin face, all the emotions he’s buried deep down inside him since the death of his wife and unborn child rise to the surface. As I lay here next to him, cradled by someone who loves me for everything I didn’t have when we met, and for everything I’ve accumulated since, an inkling of sympathy sprouts. I squash it. He made me feel alone. He made me feel like I was a possession.
In his prison, he stole my freedom, my confidence, and my will to live. He’s taken the life of countless men and has abused God knows how many women. To feel sympathy for this monster, this piece of garbage, is a slap in the face to all who’ve suffered at his hands.
Today, Skull dies alone.
“Forgive me?” he groans out, his voice nothing but a whisper.
Forgive him? If I had the energy, I’d press my finger into his wound to increase his suffering. He terrorized me, abused me, he kept Jai and I apart the whole time at his compound, and for over a year afterward, and he held a gun to Jacob’s head—an innocent baby. Now he’s asking for forgiveness? After all the pain and fear he caused us because Joel and Monique fell in love? Because I bear a slight resemblance to his late wife? And on his deathbed no less.
At this point, he’ll reap what he sowed.
“Never.” I sound out of breath. Weak.
“Please?”
My eyes flutter. Unconsciousness flirts with my brain as my blood slowly drains out of me from a bullet that tore through Skull’s body and was caught by mine. It’s convenient that my suffering is linked to his, even in death.
“No.”
I fight to keep my eyelids open and watch as Skull’s face twists with guilt and regret right before he takes his last breath. Life ebbs from his eyes as they glass over and I feel…
…content.
The villain in my story doesn’t lose in an epic showdown. There’s no adrenaline, no excitement, no trying to guess what happens next. There are no theatrics to distract me from the main event.
It’s just me and him.
He was shot and while his death is tragic and anti-climactic, it’s so fucking satisfying. He doesn’t deserve to go down in a blaze of glory. He deserved to wither away on the side of this road.
Skull’s demise was inevitable, and it’s slow enough for me to savor every second. I understand now why Skull never died in that explosion. Karma wanted him to die here, right in front of me, watching me through clouded eyes as Jai cradles me in his arms. Karma wanted him to realize that he played a losing game from the beginning. She wanted him to beg for my forgiveness—even if he didn’t call me by my own name—and I denied him freedom from his actions, his guilt, like he denied me freedom from his prison. He had every chance to move on with his life, but he chose to hunt me instead and for that he’s paid with his life.
Finally.
The pain that once burned like fire fades into an icy numbness. I fear following Skull into death and seeing him there, so I try to hold on, despite the black that fills the edges of my vision. Jai presses his large, bloodied palm to my face and pulls it toward him. I blink and try to tell him I’ll be okay, but all that leaves my lips is a painful gasp of air. His handsome face, now smeared in my blood, is sad. Heartbreaking. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him cry, but here he is, sobbing over me like I’m already dead.
He speaks and pets my head, rocking me back and forth on his thighs, one hand planted against my back. It hurts where he touches me, but I can’t find the voice to tell him. As I stare at his lips, panic sets in when I realize I can’t hear his beautiful, rough voice, only the sound of my own heartbeat. I’m dying. Bit by bit, my brain is shutting down. My breath comes in ragged, shallow gasps and seconds pass as I lay here, then, a new face leans over me. The morning sun bounces off his smooth, umber skin, and he slaps at my face, his full lips smacking together as he snaps at me.
Ted.
The real hero in this story. We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him.
He’s worried, I can tell by the way his tidy eyebrows pull together, but it does nothing to appease my fear. I try to communicate to him that it’s okay, but all I can squeeze out is a pathetic whimper and a twitch of my leg. I hope Jai tells him just how invaluable he’s been. Ted deserves to know.
Unconsciousness pulls at my eyelids and I surrender to it.
I accept my death and I’m at peace. I’m in the arms of the man I love, next to a gorgeous vineyard in Tuscany, following the death of my enemy, and I’m covered in my warm, sticky blood and rich Italian dust.
I can’t think of a better way to go.
* Jai *
Despite our location, the emergency services got to Emily fast. None of them spoke a lick of English but that’s okay. I just wanted them to help her and fast. I was so certain she died in my arms. She wouldn’t open her eyes and Ted couldn’t find a pulse. Her blood poured from her body and soaked through my clothes, despite my attempts to plug the wound. Thankfully, the professionals found a pulse. It was faint, barely there, and they ripped her from my arms.
This was all my fault.
I stood away from the first ambulance as the paramedics worked on her, giving her oxygen and blood, doing their best to tend to the wound. I bit my nails to the bone, listening to them shout in a language I didn’t understand.
They could’ve lost her.
They could’ve saved her life.
A few minutes passed before they pulled the doors shut and sped off, leaving me and Ted in their dust. When it settled, my blurry vision focused on the second ambulance as they pushed the bed into place and locked the wheels, a dead Skull in a black bag on top.
This was his fault too.
Eventually, the ambulance carrying Skull pulled away, a forensic investigator in a black car following closely behind them. In the end, all that was left of this morning’s horror show were two pools of blood. One belonged to a dead man, the other belonged to the love of my life.
A hand is waved in my face, forcing my attention back to the tall, slender police officer. He scratches his black, curly hair with the end of his pen before pointing it in Ted’s direction. “Do you confirm what he said?”
Though his accent is thick, his English is clear.
I nod. “Yeah. I confirm it.”
“We’ll have to call both of you in for more questioning following the autopsy. You understand you two should stay local while this investigation is still active, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” Ted responds as I turn away from the police officer and march toward the truck.
All I’ve wanted since the ambulance carrying Emily left is to get in the damn truck and go to her. I know, if she makes it to the hospital alive, that she’ll be in surgery, but I want to be there for her, covered in blood or not.
I sit in my truck, clenching the steering wheel in my clammy hands as Ted shakes the officer’s hand and turns toward me. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pants, he saunters up to the driver door. I crack my window.
“I’m driving. We’ll go home, clean up, and then go to the hospital.”
I shake my head. “We’re going straight to the hospital.”
“They’re not going to let us in caked in blood, Jai. We’ll be drawing unwanted attention and we’re going to scare the shit out of everyone.”
I slide my teeth together and nod. He makes fair points. “We’ll go home first, but I’m driving.”
Ted doesn’t argue. Instead, he climbs into the truck. I turn it on and drive back toward Joel’s place. Emily’s place. I wince, the thought of her sends tiny blades through my veins.
“I didn’t see her,” Ted confesses, his head turned as he stares out the window. “I thought he put her in the car already. I took my shot without clarifying her position.”
He slams his elbow into the door, cursing under his breath as he swipes his large hand over his forehead. The image of Kitten’s face…the way her eyes widened in shock…
My vision blurs and I blink rapidly to try and clear it. Against the wheel, my fingers tingle. I’m not a crier, but my entire body tingles with the urge, desperately wanting me to let it out, but I won’t. If I cry, I’m admitting my loss and I haven’t lost her.
Not yet.
I clear my throat. “Anyone could’ve made that mistake. Skull is dead. You did your job.”
“If she di—”
“You did your job,” I repeat, swallowing hard. “I don’t think that situation would’ve ended well either way.”
Ted took the shot I was too afraid to make. Emily begged me to shoot, even if it went right through her, but I couldn’t bring myself to try. I would’ve let Skull put her back in his car to avoid hurting her myself and she’d never forgive me.
What Ted did had to be done. Emily said she’d rather die than be held captive by him again.
“She’ll be okay,” Ted mutters, “she’s too stubborn to die.”
My lips tug at one corner as my heart warms. Emily is the most stubborn person I know—besides Joel. I loathed it when we first met, but I fell in love with it over time. A lot of people say stubbornness is a negative trait, but it wasn’t for her. Her stubbornness made her strong and capable. It helped her survive. While she might not be as physically strong as I am, she has intellectual strength and that’ll always win over physical strength.
“Yeah. She is.”
I drive us back to Joel’s and they meet us on the driveway, bags packed for the hospital. I knew the hospital wouldn’t let all of us stay there, but I’m not about to turn them down. These people are her family and they deserve to be by her side more than I do.
Ted and I step out of the car and Joel takes Jake from Monique’s arms as she bursts into tears when she sees how much blood we’re covered in. I don’t need to tell her who the blood belongs to.
Hannah bunches her long, purple skirts in her fist and rushes over to Ted. She fusses over him, grabbing his face in her thin hands and inspecting him all over. He might not like the way she obsesses over his safety, but he needs to remember that she operated on his lifeless body on her kitchen table. She’s witnessed him in death, in recovery, and in life.
I would give anything to have Emily touch me right now.
I stroll past everyone, climb the stairs, and enter the house. I kick off my shoes, not wanting to ruin their plush carpet. I head for the guest room shower. It takes a lot of time to wash her blood off me. My hands tremble as I do it, my eyes blurring with my pain once again. When I’m certain I’ve got it all, I find another drip, another drop.
My heart splinters painfully in my chest and I tighten my stomach, dropping my head against the cold tiles.
Fuck.
***
We arrive at the hospital just after lunch and, by dinner time, our group has halved, leaving only Ted, Huss, Joel, and I sitting in the secluded waiting room.
Jacob lost the plot two hours in, and Benji’s videogame died, so Monique and Hannah took them home. I told the boys they could go too and I’d call them if I heard anything new, but they refused. They want to be here as much as I do.
To my frustration, the medical staff haven’t told us anything except that Emily will be in surgery for as long as it takes, and they don’t know how it’s going to go.
At first, it was daunting, but I take comfort in each hour that passes, knowing they wouldn’t bother operating on a dead body. My Kitten is hanging on for me.
The atmosphere in this upscale Italian hospital is completely different to the ones I’ve visited in America. The air is sweet and fresh, no traces of ammonia or bleach tickle my nostrils. The waiting room isn’t stark, nor filled with pamphlets on varying diseases and treatments. Instead, intricately patterned vases filled with various flowers line the hall and beautifully framed pieces of art hang on the walls. Though I’ve been sitting in this very spot, right by the spacious nurse’s station for hours, my ass barely aches because the cushions are padded and plush. They’re so comfortable I’m sure I could doze off if I wasn’t currently drowning in anxiety and dread.
Strangely, waiting in this room fills me with confidence. This hospital doesn’t feel like the kind of place people come to die. It’s regal and clean, and the staff are incredibly kind, showing us patience when we ask them questions in English. I’ve only found one nurse that speaks English and she hasn’t returned to her station in over two hours.
I glance at my watch. How much longer? I need to see Emily. I need to hear how successful the surgery was. Exhaling, I close my eyes and drop my head against the wall behind me. I’m not someone who prays. I’ll be the first to admit the only time I do is when I desperately need something to go my way. Now is no exception. Maybe the universe will listen. Maybe it won’t. There’s no harm in trying. To God, or Gaia, or whoever is listening, I promise that when I’m allowed to take Emily out of here, I will take such good care of her—the best. I promise I’ll always treat her with kindness and compassion. I’ll never utter another lie.
Never deceive her.
Never betray her.
I will dedicate all my time to healing her and being there for her for as long as she needs.
That’s the promise I send out into the universe. I can’t do any of that if she doesn’t survive this.
Please let her survive. The year I went without her doesn’t feel like a long time when I’m staring at the bitter face of forever.
“Mr. Walker?”
I open my eyes at the sound of a deep, American voice and shoot out of my seat when a man in dark navy scrubs approaches. He’s tall—taller than me—and just as broad. On his right, a tiny red-headed nurse strolls beside him, her scrubs a lighter blue.
“Yeah,” Joel sighs, lifting himself out of his chair.
His whole body is tense, his face dark and concerned.
The doctor—or maybe he’s the surgeon—addresses Joel and only Joel. I hate it. I hate that he’s listed as her emergency contact too.
“Annalise’s surgery went better than expected.”
It takes me a split second to realize Emily’s current legal name is Annalise, but once it clicks, I exhale in relief. It’s loud and heavy, and all the pent-up dread inside my body blows out of me like a balloon without a knot. Laughing, Ted wraps Huss up in a hug and they slap each other on the back before he claps a hand on my shoulder and squeezes hard.
“How is she? Is she awake?” I ask, desperate to not let the excitement that zings up my legs to shake my voice. “Was the surgery straightforward?”
He nods his head, bouncing it from side to side. A “yes” but “no” kind of gesture. “She was awake, yes. We gave her the best rundown we could, given her state. She’s back asleep for now, and when she wakes up, she’ll be quite sluggish from the morphine. As you know, Annalise was not in good shape when the EMTs brought her through. She presented with a gunshot wound to her abdominal aorta, the bullet caught by her inferior vena cava—which is the large vein that carries deoxygenated blood into the heart.”
I exhale in relief and it stretches throughout my whole body.
Joel inhales sharply. “You were able to fix it?”
“Essentially, yes. We cleaned her up, placed a tube called a Dacron graft in her aorta, and were able to repair her inferior vena cava with a lateral suture. Unfortunately, there’s some damage to her spine, but we don’t know the extent of it yet. We ran into a few roadblocks, but she pulled through in the end.” He clears his throat. “There are a few things you should know about her recovery, however.”
I frown, tendrils of dread burrowing into my chest. I hate that the doctor continues to maintain his eye contact with Joel and not me. She’s mine. He should be telling me to my face what’s going on with her. I bite back the urge to demand his attention.
“She’ll be wheelchair bound.”
Oh. Suddenly my frustration seems ridiculous and childish. A wheelchair?
“For how long?” I ask, scratching at the back of my neck.
Finally, the doctor turns his kind, green eyes on me. “It’s too early to tell. If her recovery goes well and she excels in her physical therapy, she’ll be out of the wheelchair in a few months. If it doesn’t go the way we hope and the damage to her spine turns out to be worse than we think it is…she’ll be in a chair for the rest of her life.”
Swearing, Ted walks off, pushing a hand through his hair, like what the doctor said was bad news. I admit it’s rattled me a little, but Emily’s alive, and at the end of the day, that’s all I care about. I made a promise to take care of her if she pulls through—no matter what—and I will.
Ted shouldn’t be so devastated to hear the news. He saw her incredible blood loss. He felt how faint her pulse was. Her condition could be worse—much worse—and the guilt will eat him up if he doesn’t let it go.
Huss looks at me, his eyes swimming with sorrow, but all that occupies my mind is how I’m going to make Emily’s home wheelchair accessible. How is she going to get up the stairs to her bedroom? What about her car? Where can I get one of those shower seats?
“You’re more than welcome to wait in her room now, but I think it’s best if only one or two of you are present at her bedside when she wakes up. It’ll be less jarring.”
I shake the doctor’s hand, the hand that saved Emily’s life, and then he walks away, the nurse in tow. They round the corner at the end of the hall when Joel turns to me, stuffing his large hand into the pocket of his jeans to retrieve the car keys to my rental. “I’ll catch a ride with them back to the house.”
I take the keys with a frown. “You don’t want to see her?”
“I’ll come see her when she’s feeling better.”
“Why’d you wait if you never intended to see her?”
Joel shrugs his shoulders, avoiding my gaze with his dark blue eyes—eyes that match mine in hue. “I waited with you so you didn’t have to do it alone.”
I look away from him with a nod, feeling thankful and uncomfortable. Joel and I were close as kids, but drifted apart as time went on. When we got him back from Skull, he was a different person and we didn’t gel well. In retrospect, I was a different person too. By that point, I’d been through a lot with Jessica and trying to find him, not to mention I also had Emily’s safety to think about. She came into this an innocent.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” He flicks his head at Huss, who saunters off to get Ted, who’s disappeared. “Keep us updated.”
“I will.”
Joel leaves, and the angst I feel in my stomach multiplies tenfold. I didn’t realize how much his presence appeased my nerves. I could’ve used him to break the ice when Emily wakes up. Now I have to do it myself. My heart thrums in my ears. Swallowing hard, I approach the nurses’ station. Two nurses mill about behind the desks. One sorts out paperwork, the other types away on her keyboard, copying something from her clipboard to the computer.
“Uh.” They look at me. Shit. What was Emily’s new surname? “Annalise…Smith?”
They both smile sweetly at me even though I interrupted their work. The one sorting through papers strolls over to an empty computer and clicks around before gesturing me to follow her. I shadow her down numerous halls—it doesn’t take us long to reach Emily’s room. A cold drop of nervous sweat falls from my hairline and rolls down the back of my neck at the thought of going into her room, at the thought of talking to her, but I need to beg for her forgiveness.
I messed up.
I lied to her.
I betrayed her.
She has every right to hate me and to never trust me again…
A heavy sickness spreads through my stomach. She has every right not to want to see me again.
Despite my thoughts, I persevere. I thank the nurse and step inside the room, closing the door behind me.
Emily’s space is much more stark and sterile than the waiting room. The floor is turtledove gray, the walls are milk white, and the ceiling above is made of polystyrene, squares of it laid on a grid-like frame.
Slowly, I push away the pale blue curtain that hangs on a curved chrome railing, looking like it’s been washed a thousand times, and there she is.
I suck air between my teeth. My Kitten.
My heart beats in my chest, and it’s loud in my ears as I rake my gaze over Emily, who lies motionless on the bed, her tiny body draped with crisp—but thinning—white sheets. Her skin is no longer kissed with the same beautiful, gold hue as this morning. She’s deathly pale and her face is gaunt and sickly. I clench my fists and my stomach tightens into a knot as a quiet rage builds inside me.
I want to kill Skull all over again for what he’s done.