“Brother—” Vaughn starts.
“Claire was supposed to go back to her apartment. I was waiting for her!” Matteo explodes. He inhales loudly into my cheek, my hair, and hisses into my ear, “Claire, we could have had it all, the money, each other, living on a beach in Mexico, but you reek of Vaughn’s cock. Oh, and that other cock, that male teacher’s cock. I don’t know if I want your diseased cunt anymore. Might have to get rid of you.”
My heart drums uncontrollably against my ribcage. “You…you were in…my apartment?” The words stammer and stumble out of my mouth. “Were you the one…the texts? The pictures? You were the one who did all that?”
His body vibrates around me as he laughs.
“Put the gun down, Matteo. Don’t do anything stupid,” Vaughn begs. He keeps shifting closer, stepping slowly. I don’t want him any closer. I’m so scared my whole body is trembling. I don’t want to die like this. I don’t want to die at all. Maybe the gun isn’t real. It can’t be real. Why would Matteo have a gun? Is he some sort of criminal? The Matteo I grew up with wouldn’t have a gun, he wasn’t a killer. The idea shatters in my brain as soon as it’s thought, I don’t know anything about him now. He could be my killer.
I can’t think. I can’t hear what everyone is yelling about either. The sounds of Matteo’s heavy breaths block out the shouts. I should be begging for my life, but I don’t speak. What could I possibly say to him? This isn’t even about me.
I’m having a hard time believing any of this is happening. I was just in my classroom reading Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. I’d gone to lunch with my colleagues to plan out lessons. I only ate an apple, I was hungry but budgeting, trying to make ends meet. My phone rang. I should have never answered it. It’s supposed to be Alexander’s terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, not mine.
Chloe is on her knees, her hands and arms still covering her head. She’s rocking back and forth. She looks like one of my second-graders practicing for a school shelter drill. Everyone looks so absurd. Even Vaughn with his terror-stricken eyes and imploring mouth. I don’t want these things to be the last things I see.
Does he realize that everything that’s happening, everything that’s ever happened to any of us, is all the direct result of his father’s despicable life choices? The man was pure evil.
Behind me Matteo is getting more and more agitated. I feel the hum of it all over his body as it presses up against mine. He’s going to push down on that trigger any minute now. One little tug, one small bit of pressure, and everything I am will end. Every hope and dream I’ve ever had, every goal I’ve strived for, every memory, every experience, every ounce of me and my life will disappear.
I don’t want to die.
“You’re not going to be able to get away with this,” I say, tilting my head up to look back into his eyes. “The police are investigating already, I had to give them my phone yesterday, Matteo, when you broke into my apartment.”
“Good thing I’ll have fifteen billion dollars to vanish off the face of this planet,” he sneers. The hand he’s holding me with clenches my skin, he’s fisting the skin of my stomach like I’m made of dough. The pain is unreal, but it can’t be worse than what he’s planning to do to me with that gun.
“Matteo, listen. Listen, they’re going to trace the texts messages—the images that you photoshopped? It’s all going to come back to you, you’re not going to be able to get away with it. I don’t think you should add killing anyone to that list,” I urge.
“Trust me, they won’t find anything,” he says evenly. “I’m very good at what I do. No one will figure out those pictures aren’t you.”
I need to think of something to get out of his hold. Did someone call the police? Are they coming? Are they on their way? Maybe the butler did? He’s not in the room. How about the kitchen staff? They must have heard all the yelling and called for help.
Unless they all think they could be billionaires too.
I have to make him believe that killing any of us would be a huge mistake. He has to acknowledge that murdering me would make it so much worse for him. “They even took the sheets and blankets from off my bed. Why would they do that, Matteo? If you kill me, it would look premeditated, and you’d go away for a long, long time.”
He chuckles darkly behind me. “A trade then, brother. The whore for the papers,” Matteo growls, throwing me forward, shoving me hard, out in front of him. He moves so fast I don’t see what’s happening. I tumble off balance, and Vaughn’s arms yank me up instantly, stopping me from hitting the floor.
“No!” Vaughn shouts in my ear, and he spins me around until his body blocks mine.
No, no, no, this can’t be happening.
Matteo is pointing the gun straight at Vaughn. He’s got the papers, why is he still pointing the gun? “Matteo, come on. You got the money, put the gun down. You don’t want to hurt her.”
“Oh, but I do,” Matteo says sinisterly. “I want to watch something you love get taken away from you.”
“I’m not going to let that happen, Matt—” The gun goes off, pop-pop…pop-pop-pop. It sounds like the Fourth of July. There’s a flash that explodes from the front of the gun and immediately my ears ring and fill with loud static. Vaughn jumps back, his muscles go stiff and rigid then lean into me. His hands reach out to me and he cradles my cheeks.
“Are you okay, Claire? Claire?” His hands shake. His fingers tremor over my face. “I’m going to love you for the rest of my life, okay? Okay?”
There’s blood, a lot of it, but I don’t know who got shot. I don’t feel pain. All I can feel, all I am is the beating of my heart, pounding, pounding, pounding.
When the pops went off Vaughn jumped in front of me.
He jumped in front of me. I slide my hands over my chest and stomach. I still don’t feel pain. There’s just that buzzing white noise, and Chloe, she’s screaming. Not just Chloe, everyone. Everyone is screaming.
Matteo is suddenly above me. He’s dragging me, dragging me along the floor away from Vaughn. I kick at him and scream, and he pulls the gun up and points it right in front of my eyes.
“I won’t miss this time,” he mutters. “Chloe’s next, then that cunt Margaret.”
I watch his finger move and brace myself. Click.
His eyes narrow.
Someone is still screaming behind me.
Click. Click. Click.
He’s trying to kill me, over and over. The gun isn’t working, it must me empty.
What if he puts more bullets inside, or gets it firing again somehow? I can’t let him do that. I’m frantic. Panicking. The gun went off and there’s blood. I see red and all I can focus on is not letting the gun work again.
I flail my arms in the air and grab the first thing my hands can reach—it’s a tray of coffee and fresh fruit. There’re splotches of blood sprinkled over it. I don’t give myself time to think about it. The fruit plate falls off and pieces of strawberries and mango fly everywhere. I swing the metal tray at Matteo’s face, hard. I don’t stop.
I don’t ever stop.