The next half an hour, I think I fall in and out of consciousness, and my wound is gaping, stinging, and fucking burning like I’ve been chucked in a fire. My entire body aches. My mouth is dry, and I have sweat layered all over.
I think I might die. I know I’m already heading in that direction and Dad isn’t going to get me any medical attention. He’s a delusional asshole who needs to be sectioned, or better yet, killed.
“If I…” My words stop as I grit through the pain, and I cough, making the pain even worse. “If I don’t make it.”
“You’re going to be okay, sweetheart.”
“Tell Blaise…I love him.”
I love him so fucking much; he’s all I can think about as I slip in and out of the darkness. Death is waiting for me with his scythe grinning, impatiently tapping his foot with his black cloak.
Blaise Rowle gave me a few months of life. I wasn’t the defective, useless asshole who let a girl treat me like a doormat, or a son who couldn’t follow simple rules, and I wasn’t the stepson who was hated. I was Cole Carter, and someone loved me back.
Mom claims to have always loved me, but she didn’t protect me like she should have. Not right away. Blaise, however, other than drugging my ass and fighting me every step of the way, loved me.
I swallow, tasting copper—that can’t be good. My side is burning more, and it feels like a golf ball is lodged in there.
She’s silent for a beat. Two beats. Three. “You can tell him yourself, okay? Because I won’t let him take us. I’ll make your dad take you to a hospital.”
Bless her heart. She has no idea how ridiculous that sounds, considering Dad is packing bags into the new truck, loading guns into a satchel before hiding them under the seat. He doesn’t give a fuck about my condition, or that the chances of me walking are slim to none. I can’t even sit up properly without thinking I’m about to die on the spot, and I’ve lost all feeling in my legs.
There’s no stopping him. He’ll take us. And what happens next, I have no idea. Hopefully, I die before I find out.
“Change of plan. They’re at a meeting point. It’s a twenty-minute drive from here. Let’s go,” he says, marching over to us and unfastening our cuffs. “Stand up.”
He grabs my mom and pulls her away from me. She doesn’t fight or stop him from kicking my leg to try to wake me up. My eyes are open, are they not?
Barely.
Mom worries her lip, hugging herself. “He can’t. He’s really sick, Malcolm. The wound is getting even more infected, and if we don’t get him treated, he will probably go septic if he isn’t already.”
“We’ll take those chances. Grab all the medical supplies and get your ass in the car. I’ll deal with him.”
She stands over me to stop him from grabbing me. “A few bandages and gauze aren’t going to help him. If we don’t get him help, our son will die. Do you hear me? Our son isdying.” The last word cracks in her throat, and she covers her mouth. “Please don’t take my boy from me. I’ll go with you. I’ll do whatever you want. Just take him to the hospital.”
My heavy eyes glance up at him. I want to tell my mom that there’s not a chance in hell she’s going with him or giving herself up for me, but I’m so weak, too fucking tired. I want to kick him in the balls and put a hammer through his skull, but I can’t do a fucking thing.
He grinds his teeth, getting up close to her, and she shrieks as he snatches her throat. I try my best to sit up, to move my hand to grab his ankle, but I can’t. I fucking can’t.
“You took Cole from me, so fucking sue me if I want to do the same to you. If he dies, then he dies. Less dead weight.”
The slap echoes around us as my mom’s hand swipes at his cheek.
He growls and drags her to the car, tosses her inside, and tells her if she gets out, he’ll put a bullet in my head. By the time he gets to me, I have one eye open, my pain is starting to subside, and I can barely see.
If this asshole is the last person I see before I die, I’m going to be more than pissed.
“I should leave you here. You’re going to be nothing but a nuisance, but I need her to love me again, and she’s never going to do that if I let you die.” He grabs my arm, yanks me up, and fists my hair with his free hand. “Walk to the fucking car.”
He shoves me, but I just fall on my face, my skull smacking the ground. I can hear it rattle, the way the bone connects with the hard surface, but I don’t feel anything.
I’m tired. So fucking tired. I just need to sleep. When I open my eyes again, I’ll be beside Blaise, and this would’ve all been a dream. A fucking nightmare I can’t wake up from. This isn’t real. None of this is happening. My dad isn’t dragging me along the ground by my ankle, and my mom isn’t screaming my name as if I’m already dead.
It doesn’t hurt anymore.
Fading in and out of consciousness, I feel arms around me. My back is to someone’s chest, and there’s a hand stroking hair from my forehead. They’re shushing me, even though I’m silent. Rocking me like a baby. Tears. Sobs. Pleads.
I’ve needed my mom my whole life. I did everything I could to make her happy. Even when we moved in with Blaise and hisdad, I tried to be on my best behavior, but I failed. I couldn’t even hold down a girlfriend for her, because I couldn’t fall in love with Allie.
