by Vicki Green
You know that part in a thriller movie, when your eyes open wide, you feel like your heart is gonna pound outta your chest as you watch everything happen in slow motion? This feels just like that as I watch the horror unfold before me.
When the spots finally leave my eyes, and I brush away the tears, I see Dad pulling Jeffrey off of Brock. I push against the cabinet, trying to gain footing enough to stand. My legs feel weak, and the pain in my head makes me sluggish. I watch Jeffrey turn around, the look of surprise on his face. My dad is strong but Jeffrey is younger, stronger. His arm pulls back then his fist hits Dad square on his jaw. Dad lets out a sound, and I watch him topple over and onto the ground. Memories flash in my head. Times as a child, sitting on his lap as he read to me. All the times I felt his love, before he changed, before Sebastian died. Maybe this is his way of telling me he still loves me. That he was wrong. Fighting for me.
I feel like I can’t move, my hands covering my mouth when Jeffrey raises his arm, his hand aiming a gun down at Dad. I begin to move when shots are fired. I jump, my lower back hitting the cabinet as I grab the counter with my hands to steady me. I watch blood making a huge puddle on the floor around him, a small river of red coming from his body. A sob breaks free but stops quickly when I turn and see Brock struggling with Jeffrey for the gun. They move towards me, and I start backing away. I keep edging my way until I’m next to the door.
“Dammit, asshole! Drop the fucking gun!” Brock yells right before Jeffrey put his arms around his head, putting him in a headlock. He slams Brock against the cabinet, and I watch as the butcher knife I was using earlier slides around with the impact until the blade is facing out into the room. I begin to stagger over to see if I can get around them and grab it when Jeffrey grabs blindly behind him and the loose board pops up and he grabs it. He reaches down around Brock’s head and hits his forearm hard with it. Brock cries out as Jeffrey releases him and jams his fist into his stomach. I scream as Jeffrey steps back, then pitches forward and does it again. Brock bends over, his arm trying to protect himself. Jeffrey steps back again and I watch as Brock barrels into him, pushing him back against the table. Jeffrey reaches out with his free hand and grabs Brock’s t-shirt, fisting the fabric pulling him with him. He hits him hard with the butt of the gun against his head. Brock’s eyes close halfway, blood running down the side of his face, and bile reaches the bottom of my throat.
I see an opportunity to get the knife again but when I start in that direction, the door opens beside me, and I’m pushed down, hitting my injured head on the hard floor. My vision is clouded, along with the dim light making it hard to distinguish what’s happening as I try to regain my senses. The slow motion from before speeds up and then so many things sweep through my mind as I watch. Kane grabs Jeffrey, who still has a tight hold on Brock’s t-shirt, turning him around. Jeffrey’s hold on Brock causes him to follow until Kane places his hands on Jeffrey’s chest and with a loud groan, pushing him hard. He grabs Brock around his waist with both arms, pulling him back against him as Jeffrey soars in the air, stopping abruptly when he hits the cabinet. His eyes widen. His mouth opens, and turns his head. His body turns, and I gasp as I see the butcher knife protruding from slightly above his lower back. His head turns towards Kane, who was pushed against the table still holding onto Brock. Jeffrey raises his gun, and I push up from the floor trying to stand. My head is hammering as I stagger. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” I scream, my body jolts and my eyes close when shots are fired, and I watch in fear as Kane and Brock fall to the floor.
My body is shaking hard when I open my eyes. Jeffrey is in a heap on the floor, blood pooling around him. His body is still, his eyes open and lifeless as they stare ahead. I turn to my left, sounds of sirens blaring outside, coming closer. Is there a fire? The room begins to get lighter yet hazy. The odor of something burning fills my nose. I look over at the futon, the lamp laying on its side in the middle of flames that are growing by the minute. They say in an emergency your adrenaline kicks in that you become stronger than you ever imagine. That may be true but not when you’re injured. I manage to push against the wall with my hand, struggling until I stand.
Coughing ensues as I limp over to Brock then rest my knee on the floor. His eyes are closed. Blood still drips down his beautiful face. I reach down and put my hand on his face, tears flowing down mine. Some are from the smoke filled room but most are in fear. I scan down his firm jaw, his neck, until I see his blood drenched shirt. “No,” I whisper. I hear a groan behind him, and my eyes snap to Kane, who’s laying beneath him. He’s trying to sit up, Brock’s weight heavy on his legs. Quickly, I look back at Brock and try to shake him, the warmth from the fire getting hotter, closer. “Brock! Baby, wake up! We have to get out of here!” No movement except for what my shaking causes.
“Taren! You need to leave. Now!” Kane’s voice sounds from my left but I can’t move. I can’t leave him. I won’t. I shake Brock harder, desperate in my attempts to wake him. The sirens outside are loud now, the roar of the fire even louder. “Dammit, Taren! Get out now! I’ll get him!” I look over at Dad, my heart breaking. “I’m sorry, Taren, but, he’s gone. We have to go!” Suddenly, I feel arms around my waist, and as I’m lifted, I begin beating on them.
“NO! NO! I won’t leave him!” I scream, the smoke and my tears making Brock hazy as I’m pulled out the front door. “PUT ME DOWN! BROCK!” My legs try to kick back, kick the person taking me away from my love, but they’re so weak so I keep hitting his arms. Rain beats down on us, soaking us instantly. My fists keep sliding off their wet skin.
Kane speaks into my ear, my body shaking, shivering. “Taren. I’ll go get him. I can’t do that and take care of you. Stay here.” I nod, my head wobbling with the effort. In trying to get Brock to wake up, I hadn’t noticed that Kane had managed to get himself out from under him. He sets me down on the ground, and I fall to my knees. Even through the darkness and the onslaught of rain, I can see the smoke bellowing from the door. I watch him run inside, and I bend over, purging everything within me.
“Miss. Are you okay?” I startle when I feel a hand on my shoulder but don’t look up as my stomach continues to heave. “Taren?” A familiar voice rings in my ears but I can’t stop to figure out where I know it from. “Dean! Stay with her! Get the paramedics here now!” My arms wrap around my waist. Dry heaving begins, but I can’t seem to stop the cramping in my stomach. I start coughing again, my lungs needing air desperately. “I’ll get them, Taren. Don’t worry.” I finally manage to lift my head slightly and see Caylan running into the shack. Our shack. Our love. Brock. Is he still alive? Did Jeffrey really end this? Did he finally get what he wanted and end Brock’s life? What did he gain? He’s dead, lying in the shack that Brock and I built together, in our love for each other.
I jump when someone tries to place an oxygen mask over my mouth, and my eyes snap up into the eyes of a paramedic. “Let me just put this around your head. I need to tend to your wound too. Okay? Let me just help you move back from the fire.” I shake my head wildly, the movement makes me close my eyes with the pain and a groan escapes me. I feel strong arms around my waist and am lifted. When I open my eyes, I see Caylan walking out the door with his arm around Kane, half dragging him. They both fall to the ground. Kane isn’t moving. His eyes closed, and Caylan is leaning on one arm beside him, breathing heavy.
My heart feels like it could strangle me. I start to struggle, pulling forward. “BROCK!” I scream, but it’s muffled by the mask. My feet slide on the wet ground as I’m pulled away. Another paramedic appears and blocks my line of hazy vision as he picks up my legs and I’m placed on a thin mattress. I try to sit up but strong hands push me back down. “NO! BROCK!” I try screaming again. Suddenly I still when the other paramedic moves to the side and I see Caylan running back into the shack. His body is bent as he half limps through the door, his movements slow. Flames roar above the roof and out the sides. I startle when I hear a loud crash, imagining the glass in the window blowing out. Brock’s face
enters my mind. Bruises all around one side, the same side that was hurt before. The blood that was flowing so readily, not only on his face but his shirt. Stomach cramps return and I turn to my side and bend over, my hand ripping the mask from my mouth just in time to start dry heaving again.
I turn my head back, my hand grips the side of the gurney as I stare at the doorway. “Here. Let me….” I wince as I feel the paramedic tending to my head. Pain sears through me, clouding my already hazy vision. “Looks like you’ll need some stitches.” Stitches. I hit my head on the cabinet and the floor. Confusion sets in but then I sit up, my hands pushing against the mattress. He keeps fooling with my head as I see Caylan walk out, Brock’s lifeless body over his shoulder. Caylan gets only a few feet when he collapses and Brock falls onto the ground. Moving my legs over the side, I begin to get up but am pushed back down. “Hey, you can’t get up. I’m not done yet and you’re losing a lot of blood.”
BR…. BROCK!” I yell and start to struggle in the man’s hold. Several men run over to Caylan and Brock. Two men are carrying Kane to another gurney a few feet away from me. “I need to….”
More men show up, carrying Jeffrey and Dad’s bodies out of the shack, laying them down on the saturated ground.
BOOM
The earth seems to shake, and everyone ducks. The kerosene. I feel the gurney I’m on moving away from the shack. When we stop, hands grip my arms as I try to get up again. “Please.” I cry, my body racking with sobs. Men pick up Caylan and Brock and lay them down closer to me. As they lay Brock down, his head turns my way. My head tilts to the side as I study his battered face. His eyes are still closed, but it’s hard to decipher much in the rain and darkness. I still when I look at his chest, trying to determine if he’s breathing. Men in police uniforms and paramedics run around everywhere. Talking, yelling of needing oxygen, and various sounds are all around. I feel a prick and look down just as a needle pulls away from my skin. My head snaps back to Brock, the pain in my body making my vision more unclear. A paramedic kneels down over him blocking my view.
Then my eyes are obstructed by a body and I look up. Dean is standing beside me, his eyes full of tears, and his face solemn. “Taren. I’m so sorry.” I don’t want to believe my eyes or what he says. I try to look around him but can’t. He places his hand on my arm, and my eyes snap to it as it tightens, squeezes. I can’t live without Brock. There’s no life for me here, no hope. For most of our young lives, we’ve been together, shared almost every moment, good and bad. Our families tried to keep us apart, but we always stayed together. Our love held us, comforted us, and was the only thing that saw us through all the bad times, knowing in the end we’d be together. He’s all I’ve ever known. All I’ve ever wanted. All I’ve ever needed.
“Brock,” I whisper. “Please, don’t leave me.” A sob escapes and I start feeling woozy. I look up at the man trying to bandage my head and anger swells. “What did you give me? I need….” my voice sounds strange, my body becoming light. “No. I….” I need to make sure he’s okay. Doesn’t he understand my whole life is laying on the ground dying? My world is crumbling around me as confusion sets in. I turn my head and see the man beside Brock look up at another man shaking his head. “No.” My chin quivers. Another sob bursts free. They begin to stand and walk away. “No.” my voice comes out a little louder. The rain begins to hit me harder and the gurney I’m on starts to move. “NO!” I look over at Dean. His face changed to alarm. Lightning strikes, shedding a little light in its flash. A glimmer makes my eyes look at his hand. He’s holding the butchers knife, a cloth wrapped around the handle. In the blink of an eye, I reach over and grab the handle, pulling it free from his hold. I sit up halfway, grasping the handle with both hands, turning the blade around and plunge it into my stomach, my mouth opening in silence as my face scrunches in pain.
“TAREN! NO! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”
Screaming and yelling is all around me. My body falls against the mattress. I look up to the sky, the raining causing me to blink rapidly as it hits my eyes. Pain floods through me and my body begins to shake uncontrollably. Brock’s face appears over me, and my mouth turns into a smile. I feel hands all over me, the small bed shaking, moving. I feel numb, but I keep my eyes on Brock. His face isn’t bruised, his eyes not swollen. There’s no blood, only his breathtakingly beautiful face. He smiles, and I feel him. “Come with me, my love,” he whispers. “It’s over now. We can finally be together. Forever.” My eyes become heavy but I strain to keep them open, to keep them on him. “It’s okay, Taren. I’ve got you.” I feel his warm hand cup my face, and I let my eyes close with his touch.
Brock
I swallow. My throat feels like sandpaper. I struggle to open my eyes, but I’m sluggish, feeling like I’ve been drugged. Flashes and scenes play in my mind. The shack. Fire. Jeffrey. Was Taren’s dad there or did I dream that? What’s real and what have I imagined? Maybe when I finally open my eyes the whole thing will have been a bad dream. Taren’s in my arms, her breathing light in her sleep. I remember that I finished watching the movie, too comfortable to take her to bed.
Opening my eyes, I saw the blue showing on the TV screen, telling me I’d fallen asleep. Then I’m pulled up off the couch, fists hitting me repeatedly. Everything after that is so scrambled, so confusing. I open my eyes a slit. A hospital room. Small with no window. Is it day or night? I look around. Tubes filtering from my hand, my arm. Tilting my head back I see machines. Beeping sounds waft into the tiny area from behind me, counting my heart beats, continually taking my blood pressure. I’ve seen them before. In movies as well as others I’ve visited in the hospital. Question is why do I have them? But the bigger question is: where is Taren? My hand lifts and reaches over, my finger pressing on the button that looks like a woman’s face. I’m hoping this is the nurse’s button because I want answers. Now. Quickly, I hear footsteps, the door already ajar. It moves open further and a nurse walks in, immediately coming to my side and picking up my hand. Her fingers are pressed against my wrist as she looks at her watch.
“Taren. Where is she?” my voice doesn’t sound like me. My throat is so dry and scratchy. She looks down at me, her brows lower. “Taren Mills. Where is she?” I ask again and then swallow hard. Damn, that hurts. Her silence causes my heart to race and a machine starts becoming louder. “Taren! Where the fuck is she?” I yell, pain searing through me. My eyes close tight as I wince.
“Please, stay calm, Mr. Evans. I’ll go find out.” I open my eyes and see her push a needle in the top of a tube. “You must stay calm. You haven’t been out of surgery long and you’ll cause yourself more damage.”
She turns and starts to walk away but I grab her arm, squeezing tightly. Well, as tight as I can. I feel so weak. “Where’s Taren,” I say through gritted teeth.
Her other hand lays on mine that’s gripping her arm. “Sir. I promise I’ll find out.” Her eyes are full of concern, and I slowly release her. She jogs out of the room, and I lay back. The pain intensifies, but I have to find her. Flashes of memories keep sweeping through my mind. I remember Jeffrey choking me, knocking her away, and she hit her head against the cabinet. The sounds of her screaming. I kept trying to fight him, get him off me, so I could get to her but his surprise attack left me weak and injured. Still I tried, hard. Then I remember seeing his face as the knife went into his back, his look of surprise and confusion. But when his gun went off and hit me in the chest, I flew back into Kane, knocking us both down. My hand moves over the bandage covering my chest. I don’t know anything that happened after that, and now I’m left wondering how Taren is. Was she hurt more after that? Is she okay now? All these thoughts make me even more anxious to see her, hold her in my arms. I need to know that she’s okay.
I look up when a doctor walks into the room. His face is full of concern and something else I can’t decipher. He walks to the end of the bed and just looks at me. I open my mouth to speak, to ask him about Taren, when he starts talking. “Mr. Evans. Good to see y
ou awake. The injuries you sustained made me fear losing you. More than once.” My eyebrow raises. “I had a difficult time removing the bullet from your chest. It was very close to your heart. Another inch and you wouldn’t be with us now. Your heart stopped twice and you had to be revived. Your facial and head lacerations will heal but you could be left with some light scarring.”
“Uh, Doc. I’m sorry but I don’t really care about me. Taren Mills. Is she okay?” I interrupt, anxious as ever to find out about my love.
He clears his throat. “You’re not a relative. Are you?” His brows lift and mine lower.
“She’s my girlfr…. She’s my life. Tell me or I’ll go find her myself.” I throw the covers off, pain shooting through me as I try to sit up. I lay back and close my eyes, the machine behind me sounding with loud beeping, echoing in the small room.
I feel his hand on my leg. “Please, lay still, Mr. Evans. I don’t want to you undo everything I’ve done and have to take you into surgery again.” I open my eyes, squinting through the pain. “Her mother is with her. I’ll go talk with her and make sure you’re allowed information about her then I’ll return. I won’t take long. Okay?” I nod. It’s the only movement I can do at the moment. “Good. I’ll be right back.” I watch him leave the room and wince. Dammit. I need to find out. I need her. I need to know she’s okay. Then my thoughts move to Kane. I wonder where he is, if he’s okay as well. I place my hand over my heart, closing my eyes as the pain starts to die down again. A sound makes my eyes snap back open. Caylan walks into the room and straight to the bed. He lays a hand on my arm.
“You okay? You had me worried.” His eyes are full of concern.
“I’ll be fine,” my voice sounds rough and raspy. He turns and does something that I can’t see then turns back with a big cup with a straw. I take it from him and drink some cool water. The liquid feels so good on my throat. I push the straw out and hand the cup back to him and watch him set it on a table, rolling it over me, so I can reach it. “Taren. No one will tell me where she is, if she’s okay.” I reach out and grab his arm. “Do you know?” His eyes widen. “Tell me.” He opens his mouth then we both look at the doorway when the doctor walks back in. I release Caylan’s arm, anxious to hear what he has to say.
