Torture to Her Soul
Page 107

She's not supposed to be here.
Karissa steps toward me.
So does Ray.
My gaze bounces between them, frantic.
It's only seconds, those brief seconds where the world stops turning, when you stare down the barrel of a gun that you know is going to take everything from you. Your life, maybe, but certainly your reason to live. But it only lasts seconds before the gun shifts.
Ray aims over my shoulder, into the doorway. His finger squeezes the trigger as I scream, lunging at him. The gunshot goes off, loud in my ear, a small explosion that rocks the air around me. I hit him a second too late, knocking him to the ground, familiar rage consuming me. We struggle as I fight him, getting my hands on the gun, beating him with it to get him to loosen his grip before turning it around on him. I don't hesitate. I don't even think about it.
I grip the gun.
I pull the trigger.
A second after the gunshot goes off, I hear the sharp inhale, the sucking in of air from lungs desperate to breathe. My eyes are on Ray, as he lays on his back in the grass, immobile. He's not breathing.
It didn't come from him.
No.
God, no.
My eyes dart to the doorway of the house when the sound hits me again. I don't see Karissa. She's not standing there anymore. But I can hear her.
I hear her when she gasps.
When she tries to breathe.
Pushing away from Ray, getting to my feet, I drop the gun in the grass and rush inside, nearly collapsing as soon as I step in the foyer. Blood streaks the white linoleum surrounding Karissa. She lays flat on her back, clutching a wound on her chest, trying to keep the blood in but it's seeping out too fast. Dropping to my knees, I pull her into my arms, forcing her weak hands away from the wound. I tear her shirt open, getting it out of the way. The wound is near her rib cage and it's sucking air every time she inhales.
Shit.
I put her hands tightly against it again, looking down at her. "Hold right there, okay? I'm going to get something to stop the air."
I run to the kitchen, throwing things around as I sort through cabinets, finding a roll of plastic wrap. I grab some medical tape from the drawer and run back to Karissa, grateful she's exactly how I left her. I drop to the floor, pulling her hands away, and tear off some plastic wrap. I cover the wound, taping it tightly, before I search through my pockets to find my phone.
With one hand, I press firmly on her wound, while I use the other to dial 911. My heart still races as her bloody hands grasp my arm, holding on to me. Tears streak her cheeks, her breaths panicked gasps as she stares up at me. The dazed look is already in her eyes.
"Deep breaths, baby," I tell her, my voice cracking, as I cradle the phone in crook of my neck. "Try to relax. The more excited you get, the faster your heart pumps and the more blood you lose."
"911, what's your emergency?"
"I need an ambulance right away," I say. "Nineteen year old female with an open chest wound from a gunshot."
I rattle off the address, and the dispatcher tries to give me instructions, asking me to stay on the line until help arrives, but I drop the phone, letting it hit the floor beside me, not bothering to hang it up. I still clutch tightly to her wound, trying to slow the bleeding, as my free hand brushes the hair from her face.
"Naz," she whispers. "Naz…"
"It's okay," I tell her, continuing to smooth her hair as I stare down at her. "I've got you. Just keep breathing, okay? You're going to be okay just as long as you keep breathing for me. You think you can do that?"
She nods weakly.
"Just keep breathing," I whisper, relishing every breath she takes, no matter how strained. "Just keep breathing."
She tries. Fuck, I can tell she's trying, but each inhale brings on a grimace of pain. Her face contorts with a cry as I brush away her tears. "Naz…"
"No," I say, shaking my head. "Don't try that bullshit. Don't Naz me. You just keep breathing and you're going to be fine. I promise. You can't… I can't lose you. I need you to keep breathing, Karissa. Help is coming soon. Just hold on for me."
Two minutes.
Four minutes.
Ten minutes.
A fucking century.
I don't know how long it takes before I hear the sirens in the distance, the lights flashing as they pull up in front of the house. It's the police first, then the EMS. People swarm the house, officers and medical personnel. Someone grabs ahold of me, pulling me away from her. Karissa turns her head my way when I'm dragged from the foyer, and I don't hear her voice, but I watch as her lips move, mouthing my name.
Naz.
I'm dragged outside. It's chaos.
Another century passes.
Maybe it's just a minute.
I don't know.
I don't know anything.
"Just keep breathing," I whisper to myself. "Keep breathing."
I blink, and officers surround me.
Another blink, and Karissa's being hauled away.
I try to force my way past the crowd, trying to get to her, but I'm restrained. There are too many people here. Where the hell did they come from? No matter how much I scream, how much I fight, the ambulance leaves without me, tearing through the street at full speed, sirens blaring.
A few more blinks. People are talking to me. Their voices are garbled. I can't fucking think. I grip my hair tightly, pacing in a circle, not saying a word except "keep breathing."
I don't know when it happened, but suddenly Jameson is there. Crime scene tape surrounds my house. I'm standing on my front step, covered in blood, my hands shaking. He stands in front of me, a concerned expression on his face. He's a blurry mass, and I blink to clear my vision, realizing I'm crying.