I looked back and saw blood. Caleb’s head was down. There was a loud, panicked scream and the person under Caleb pulled at his hair to wrench him backward. Caleb’s mouth opened on a scream and blood came spurting out.
The screams continued, one after the other.
I froze. The screaming. I couldn’t take the screaming.
Caleb’s body was suddenly thrown toward the alcove. I didn’t recognize our attacker. His face gushed with blood and a flap of skin hung from his cheek.
I screamed.
The man was still screaming as he threw himself on top of Caleb. He was beating his head into the floor.
I forced myself to move. I scrambled toward the bed, frantically running my hands underneath and feeling for the bag. It was there! I pulled it out and dumped it out on the floor. The gun came toppling out and I gripped it. It went off. I hit myself in the face with the back of my hand.
“Livvie!” Caleb yelled. The sound was a wet gurgle.
I regrouped quickly and held the gun in both hands. I pulled the hammer back and my hands trembled as I pointed it at the man on top of Caleb. “Get off him! Now!”
He turned to look at me, the flap of skin on his face just hanging there as blood gushed out, one heavy spurt after another. He rushed me and I squeezed the trigger. The force toppled me. My vision blurred for a couple of seconds. I scrambled backward on my hands, searching for the gun behind me.
I’d shot him. Our attacker lay on the ground, his body twitching and shuddering. His hands clawed at his chest. There was blood everywhere.
“What did I do?!” I screamed.
“What did I do?!”
“What did I do?!”
“Caleb, Livvie! Focus. Focus on Caleb. Where’s Caleb?” Ruthless said.
Somehow, I registered the situation. I looked toward the bathroom. Caleb wasn’t moving. No. No, no, no, no, no! I saw red. Nothing but red! I found the gun and picked it back up. I crawled over and put the barrel on our attacker’s chest. He tried to fight me while I pulled back the hammer, but he was weak, and my rage made me strong. I screamed as I pulled the trigger and blood sprayed my face, neck, and body. When I opened my eyes, I stared directly into his wide open chest.
“Caleb!” I yelled. When he didn’t answer, I crawled toward him, terrified of what I might find when I reached him. He wasn’t moving. He was covered in blood and he wasn’t moving! I pulled his head into my lap and tapped the side of his face, “Caleb? Wake up, baby. Wake up! We have to go.” There was no reaction. “Please. Please, God!” I put my hand on his chest. He was breathing.
I could hear shouting from outside. People running and squealing tires leaving the parking lot. Cops would be here soon. I put Caleb’s head down and grabbed his shirt to sit him up. “Wake up! Please!” I shook him. His head fell forward and he coughed blood onto my pants. “Oh! Oh! Thank you!” I pulled him to my chest, running my hands all over him.
“Livvie,” he said. And then he really woke up, “Livvie!” He pulled back and stared at me in shock. He pushed me to one side and looked behind me, then back to my face. “Are you okay?” he said frantically.
I nodded, tears streaming down my face.
“We have to go,” he said. “Now. Get up.” He pushed me up and I helped him stand. He grabbed my hand and stooped down to scoop up the gun.
I ran to the pile of things next to the bed and found the keys. I shoved everything else inside in one huge ball.
“Get to the truck, Livvie,” Caleb said. He seemed much too calm.
I ran across the parking lot, surprised to discover there were no people out there anymore. I managed to get the key into the lock and open the door. I scrambled inside and slammed it shut.
I heard another gunshot and ducked. Nothing happened for several seconds, but then the truck shook and I heard a loud thud. I squeezed my eyes shut. The cab door opened.
“It’s me, Livvie. It’s me,” Caleb whispered. He found the keys in my hand and pried them loose. He peeled out of the parking lot as I shivered and cried on the seat next to him. After a while, I felt his fingers in my hair, gently stroking my head.
I had killed a man. I was covered in his blood.
I had to do it. I’m not sorry.
And I wasn’t. I wasn’t sorry the son of a bitch was dead. I’d known he was dead after I shot him the first time. There was no way he could have survived the wound I’d given him. I had shot him the second time because…I wanted to. He had tried to kill me, but it was seeing Caleb’s motionless body, that had ultimately filled me with rage. Caleb was mine. I was through letting people take things from me.
We drove for a few hours. I had no idea where we were and I didn’t care. I kept my head on Caleb’s lap and let him touch me. Everything in my world made sense if Caleb kept touching me.