Not My Heart to Break

by W Winters

  My father knew he had to go the second he took charge and everyone agreed. They were going to do it in the warehouse, then dump him in the back alley.

  Then what would Laura have had? She would have known. Everyone would have known with his body being left there and she would have been the daughter of a rat.

  I wanted to hide it from her. I wanted to protect her. Everything inside me needed to protect her.

  Then you do it. My father’s voice echoes in my head as I stare straight ahead at the bright lights in Laura’s living room. Her curtains are parted and I can see her silhouette move from one side to the other.

  My father put the gun in my hand and I shot her father in the back of the head while he begged for his life. I never wanted to do it. I didn’t want to kill him. I just wanted to protect her. I had to do it alone while they watched. Getting his body to the car, driving it to the top of the cliff, disposing of the gun in the cement pit round the back.

  They were going to kill him one way or the other, but I did it.

  I didn’t want her to know. It would have killed her. She was already so alone.

  “I’m sorry,” I say again in the darkness, all alone where I belong. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

  My throat’s raw, my body humming, my emotions thrashed, which is why I hesitate to believe what I see. Two sets of lights are on.

  My body’s cold in an instant. Fuck, no. No. It can’t get worse tonight.

  She’s visible in her bedroom.

  So are three other figures, in her living room.

  Laura

  I hear the front door open and I know it’s Seth, but I don’t say a damn thing. I don’t even know if I can speak right now without screaming incoherently through the pain.

  My father’s been long gone. I have to cover my face with my hands as it crumples and the sadness rips through me… he wasn’t a rat. He wasn’t.

  They didn’t have to kill him; he never would have told anyone anything. He wasn’t a rat! My knees are still weak and I sniffle, angrily brushing under my eyes. I can hear Seth in the living room, but I don’t go to him. I want to, I want to scream at him, hit him. I want him to lie to me and tell me he made it up. I want it to be a cruel joke I can beat the shit out of him for and for him to hold me until this shaking and the sobs disappear.

  He said we’d be together to make the hurt stop, but it doesn’t. It never stops with us.

  A shuddering breath pulls the energy from me and I hear something in the living room. He moved something around.

  I want to tell him to get the fuck out. I want to scream at him and shove my fists into his chest. At the same time, I don’t want to see him or be around him. I don’t want his large hands on me, his warm body pulling me in. Why? Because I desperately need someone to hold me right now and I have no one.

  It’s hard to inhale; harder to calm my wild heart down. It trips like it’s falling down an endless staircase and it hurts. God it hurts.

  “Get out!” I scream and the sound is ragged. My fingers fly into my hair as I hunch my shoulders down and cover my face with my forearms. I grip on for my sanity.

  Just breathe.

  I’ve been doing it all day, thinking it all day, but at some point, breathing doesn’t help.

  The bang sounds again from behind me. He’s still moving shit around in there.

  I know that he’s drunk, I know he’s hurting, but right now, I can’t have him here. I can’t allow it to happen. I’m crumbling into nothingness and he doesn’t get to watch that. He doesn’t get to be around me when it happens. I don’t care how badly I need him.

  “Laura,” a voice calls out just as I get to my bedroom door and chills flow down my spine, sinking into my blood as I stop with my hand on the knob.

  Thud, thud.

  That’s not Seth.

  “Come out, come out,” the voice sounds, “wherever you are,” dragging out the words like it’s a game. And then I hear another voice. Two men.

  My pulse races with a new kind of fear. Whiplash dizzies my mind.

  I could hide, but there’s nowhere to hide in here other than under the bed defenselessly. I have a window in my bedroom, but the fire escape stairs are in the living room. The ones made of steel that go all the way down and lead outside.

  Sometimes you can’t just breathe. Sometimes, you just have to face it.

  When I push the door open, listening to the eerily soft creak, four men face me.

  Three of them have black masks, dark blue jeans and black shirts. All nondescript. None of them recognizable from their voices or what little I can see of their eyes. They stand in a relative half circle, my coffee table pushed back.

  Three men who have come to do something awful, although seeing masks covering their faces, calms a side of me. The logical side, the side that thinks, is telling me they hadn’t planned on killing me. If they had, they wouldn’t have worn masks to hide who they are.

  They came for something bad, though. That much is known from the slow clap and chilled laughter from the one on the right, the one by the coffee table. As if the masks and breaking into my apartment wasn’t enough to give it away.

  I may be terrified, but a part of me is ready. That little piece that screams inside my head that I should have put a bat next to my bedroom door.

  “There she is,” he calls out, his voice harsh with brittle humor. I don’t know how I stand so tall when they’re so much bigger than me.

  I try not to look at the fourth man. Swallowing harshly, my bottom lip quivering, I search my whirling mind for anything I can do to stall as Seth moves quietly to close the front door. I don’t want my focus to go to him; I don’t want them to see him sneaking up on them. In his oxfords and disheveled suit, a gun already in his hand and not on the doorknob.

  My lips part to say something as the hot tears slip down my face, but I can’t even speak. The barrel of a gun stares at me, the man on the left raising it. Fear is a crippling bitch. She can fuck right off, but right now, she’s got her grip on my throat.

  The barrel of the gun pointed at my face is a dark hole, like one I’ve imagined falling down so many times.

  The bang isn’t from it though, and the next bang and hollering isn’t either.

  “Behind you!” the not-so-funny man yells to man number two. Man number one, the one who dared raise a gun to me, is already lying face-first on the floor with a hole in the back of his head. Blood pools around his face.

  Bang! I scream instinctively. Seth shoots but so do the other two. Bullets ricochet and fly, something breaks and I can’t track it all at once. I don’t know what is happening, just that I need to move.

  Even shaking, I can see everything clearly, but only seconds of it. A second of logic and clarity and then a whirl of chaos. Grabbing the clock on the wall, the large sixteen-inch barn clock, I run and scream, slamming it into the back of the man’s head who’s closest to me. Cursing, he stumbles, but doesn’t fall. I raise the clock again to strike him, wanting and needing to do anything at all, but I hear another shot and then another and the frightful burst of the bang forces me to huddle down.

  My heart races. My body hot, I blink away the chaos. My breathing screams in my ears and it’s all I can hear.

  Seth’s still standing. I’m standing. My gaze moves to each of the men accordingly. One, two, three. All still, all not moving. I watch them each again, listening to my ragged breathing. Is it over already? Are we okay?

  We’re alive. My chest pounds, my heart pumping hard and fast. I feel faint.

  “We’re okay,” I whisper, rocking as I lean against the wall. The bullets weren’t clean and simple. There’s blood everywhere.

  Is that blood? There’s blood on Seth. His shirt. There’s too much blood. Not like the bits that have spattered behind me. Not like what’s on me. It’s a circle and it’s growing.

  A mix between a grunt and a groan leaves Seth as he checks his gun and then it clicks loudly as he heads back to the front door, locking it. />
  “Are you okay?” I ask in what feels like a yell although it sounds like a murmur, hoping he can hear me. Inhaling sharply, my heart beats wildly and my lungs refuse to move right. He’s walking, he’s okay. He’s okay. He has to be okay.

  Everything is shaking and my hands don’t stop shaking. I clasp them, trying to calm down, but that’s when I see the blood on my hands. There’s so much blood.

  He still hasn’t answered me; he’s just walking to the windows.

  “Seth!” I scream at Seth to look at me, my eyes burning and my throat sore from screaming. He doesn’t answer me, but the blood circle is growing. He’s shot. My lip quivers. “Seth!”

  He ignores me, stepping over a body to get to the window.

  “Fuck,” Seth hisses as a loud ringing wails. “Why are they here so fast?” he questions out loud, moving to the window and cursing again. It takes me a moment to even understand. Everything is ringing, my blood, my ears. Shock and fear still have their grip on me.

  Sirens wail outside. Loud and they’re only getting louder.

  “Check them,” Seth grits out, his jaw clenched as he breathes in deep.

  “You need a doctor,” I beg him to let me help him, but he grabs my hand as I grab his shirt. “Check them first.”

  My eyes are wide with disbelief. “For what?” My head is spinning and my thoughts are scattered. I don’t understand. “Make sure they’re dead,” he yells out and then leans against the wall.

  I could argue with him and I almost do. My body leans forward subconsciously, wanting to go to him and give the gunshot the attention it needs.

  “It’s in and out, Babygirl. It’s not a big deal, just annoying the fuck out of me,” he talks calmly, although his breathing is still labored. Heavy and deep.

  I take a step back to do what he tells me. Check them. Dead bodies. Three dead bodies all in masks.

  The sirens get louder and Seth tells me to hurry, dropping to his knees by one man behind the sofa.

  “Dead,” he calls out loud enough for me to hear him.

  I have to crawl on my knees across the thick carpet to go from one dead man to the next corpse. My shaky fingers dig into their necks, waiting for a pulse that doesn’t come.

  I stare into the eyes of the man closest to me through the ski mask. He’s white, his eyes are hazel and they stare at nothing. Pulling his mask back, I note that I don’t know him. He’s just a man.

  “Who are they?” I question in a hushed breath and Seth only replies asking if they’re dead. My body trembles, not knowing what would have happened if Seth wasn’t here. What would they have done to me? What did they want?

  “They’re dead. They’re all dead,” I reassure Seth as he grips his side. I don’t know how I’m still standing, or how any of this happened. Three men lie on the floor of my living room, all shot. All dead. Bullet holes litter my walls, the coffee table is broken from one of them trying to use it for defense, I don’t know. It all happened so fast.

  “Let me look,” I demand, not waiting for an answer. I run to him as quickly as I can and pull up his shirt. He doesn’t protest, holding up his shirt and seething.

  In the front and out the back of him. Two holes and too much blood.

  Laura

  The blood is so dark. Dark blood is never good. “Seth,” my weak voice utters his name as tears fall down my cheeks. “Put pressure on it at least. Gauze, let me…” My hands shake and I try to remember everything you should do for a gunshot. I don’t have anything here to help him. I need supplies. “You need to go to the hospital!”

  It’s surreal.

  Holding his gun, still facing the dead men on the floor.

  “We’ve got to get out of here.” Even as he turns away from me, I stare at the blood seeping into his shirt. It grows slowly, pooling out and then sticking to his side.

  He doesn’t mention the pain as he opens the window in the living room. The way his face scrunches though and the way he’s breathing make it more than obvious to me.

  “Seth,” I whimper and cover my mouth with both hands. Through the gaze of tears, I see the wreckage. The bodies lying dead, men who came to kill me.

  Men Seth killed to save me. We shouldn’t be running, he should be getting help.

  “Out here, Babygirl,” he commands as the knock at the door gets louder.

  “Laura Roth,” a voice calls out. “It’s the police! Open up!”

  My feet are cemented where I stand.

  “Someone called them?” I blurt out as my head spins. They’re here too fast. It all happened so fast; why are they here already?

  “Laura.” The urgency is clear in Seth’s voice as he closes the distance between us and grabs my arm. “We have to get out of here.”

  It all snaps into place when he looks at me like that. The same way he used to look at me back then. Like he was put on this earth to save me. The desperation swirls in his eyes and it breaks me down to the only piece of me I truly know.

  The piece that’s desperate to save my broken hero. So damaged by a life he chose not to run from.

  “You first,” I whisper, shaking my head. “And you see someone,” I tell him, already deciding it won’t be me. It can’t be.

  It’s pitch black outside, and a gust of harsh wind throws the curtains to the side as the policeman roars, “We’re coming in!”

  “Go, quick,” I say as I usher him to the window. My hand brushes against his side, against the blood. Seth doesn’t react, but his jaw’s clenched tight. “Let me help you,” I beg him as he climbs out of the window and onto the metal fire escape stairs that lead down the side of the old brick building.

  He’s quick to climb out into the dark night.

  The police are coming and I’ll be damned if I let Seth take the fall. He still has both hands on the windowsill. The gun sitting on the sill cements my decision.

  “Come on, Babygirl.” His tone is gentle as he waits for me to climb out too and to run. “I’ve got you.”

  I can already hear my defense. They broke in here, they threatened me. I did it. I killed them but it was in self-defense. He can get help, he can take care of himself. They can’t blame him for this.

  If he did it, if he’s the one to go down for their murders… There’s intent, drug wars, previous offenses.

  I love him, but I hate him.

  He hurts me, but he saves me.

  Maybe I’m confused, maybe it’s the endorphins rushing through me, the fear, the unknown. I don’t know what it is, but I rip the gun from the sill, whispering for him to go to the hospital and slam the window closed the second his hand raises in confusion and defense. The look of betrayal doesn’t register in his eyes until I lock the window.

  Bang! Bang! Two kicks sound at the door behind me and I suck in a harsh breath.

  My fingers are clenched around the edge of the curtains, ripping them shut and hiding him from the police as the door slams open.

  It’s chaotic and my head spins with uncertainty.

  “Laura Roth, put the gun down slowly.”

  It’s hard to breathe, let alone register what I’ve done. My knees give in and I slowly drop to the ground. There was one rap on the window, one harsh pounding of a fist and I know it’s Seth’s. But only one and then he’s gone.

  Run, Seth. Please, run for me. Get help. I can’t stop picturing the hole in his side. He’ll get help faster this way. He’ll be okay. I have to believe that he’ll be okay.

  He’ll understand. When it’s all over and I’m free. He’ll understand.

  My body’s hot and still trembling as I drop to the floor, following the instructions of Officer Walsh. I recognize his voice. Walsh. Walsh is the one behind me and there are other cops as well, walking around and checking bodies. They call out that they’re dead.

  “All of them?” Walsh asks and someone answers yes.

  I don’t even know how many police officers are with him as he grabs one wrist and then the other. I stare blankly ahead at the curtain. At the
spot where I last saw Seth’s face.

  “I know you didn’t do this,” Walsh whispers as another cop behind me calls out that he’s gone too.

  The police sirens ring out loud behind the windows. I wish it were an ambulance.

  “It was self-defense.” I clear my throat and tell Walsh as he pulls me up and onto my feet. He huffs out like he doesn’t believe me.

  “One of them was undercover, Laura. Your excuse isn’t going to work.”

  Undercover… a cop. A chill travels along my skin.

  No. Fuck. No.

  My heart slams, skittering to a halt and refusing to go on. I can’t breathe. “You’re lying.” My voice raises as I start to say, “You just want me to—” before I cut myself off. He’s lying. The cold metal of the cuffs digs into my skin as he turns me around. Walsh’s light blue eyes stare into mine with pity.

  “I’m taking you in even though I know you didn’t do this. You’re going to tell me everything though. You have to. Someone has to go down for this.”

  He’s wrong. Walsh has to be wrong.

  I didn’t just confess to killing an undercover cop.

  Seth

  There’s at least three of them. A gun to my temple. A hand keeping the gag in my mouth. The cloth is slipping back farther down my throat, strangling me as I breathe harshly through my nose. With only a single streetlight a block away, I can’t see shit. I heard the cops practically knock down Laura’s door and bucked back, screaming, fighting, but it was useless. I’d already been grabbed.

  The rage is brutal, just like the heat that boils inside of me.

  They don’t say anything. Not a fucking word as I scream out. The heavy arm holding my arms down around my front grabbed me the second my feet hit the steel grid outside Laura’s window.

  Laura. The thought of her tightens my throat, a raw scratching feeling at the back of it. Trying to breathe, the gag slips back more.

  “She’s all right.” I hear a voice behind me that makes me pause. Not the man holding me, not the man in front of me with the gun to my head.