Boss finally let go of me as he laughed at my father’s feeble attempts to break free. I stood up as my father jerked his arms and legs back and forth. He screamed as loud as he could, though the sounds were muffled from the gag in his mouth. One of the men holding him punched him in the ribs, and the distinct crunching sound made me want to vomit. “Don’t hurt him!” I cried out.
Decker, who had been silently watching throughout the entire exchange, finally spoke up. “We gave you your money, now just give us Frank, and we’ll be on our way.”
Boss started to stroke his chin with his bony fingers as if contemplating what he wanted to do next. All of his men were hanging on his every move, waiting for the order and effectively feeding his ego. How desensitized were they to violence? How conditioned were they to follow Boss’s orders?
“I suppose you’re right. The debt has been paid. And this sorry sack of shit...” He paused to wind up and punch my father in the gut as I whimpered. Dad’s entire body went limp. “Isn’t worth my time,” Boss finished.
“Please let us go,” I begged.
“Release him,” Boss finally conceded.
The men holding onto Dad reluctantly started to untie him, making sure to leave his gag on. I knew Dad was in bad shape when he remained slumped over on the ground even after his hands were freed. I looked at Boss, wondering if this was a trap. He seemed like the sort of man to give false hope only to yank it back once you settled into the idea that he wasn’t going to hurt you.
“I don’t have all day,” he growled while gesturing toward my father.
Not needing to be told twice, I rushed over to Dad and tried to help pick him up. Decker went with me, and together we hoisted him off the ground and rested his arms on our shoulders. Not a single person moved to help us, and it didn’t seem like they were too concerned about a bloodied man traveling through the hotel. Whatever sort of organization they were a part of, they were confident in their power.
Decker and I dragged Dad toward the elevator, and the moment my index finger moved to press the button leading down, Boss started to laugh. It was a menacing sort of sound that made me freeze up. Even though I struggled under the weight of my father, I glanced over my shoulder to see what was so funny but cringed when I realized what he was laughing at. Boss was standing at his living room window, looking down below. “I thought I told you not to call the police,” he said while spinning around. At his words, his men unholstered their guns and aimed them at us. I could feel the threat of death at my back.
I quickly pressed the elevator call button, even though I knew it was hopeless. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stuttered before glancing at the blinking light above the door. Come on, I thought.
“Then why did five cop cars just pull up to my hotel? I thought you were some kind of genius, bitch. Now you’re just taking advantage of my kindness.” Boss seemed calm even though the men around us were bursting with toxic energy. I looked up at the elevator light once more, praying for it to open.
All the while, Boss just stood there with his arms crossed over his chest as he stared out the window. It was chilling that he didn’t even seem concerned. I wouldn’t put it past someone like him to have the law in his pocket. Everything happened too quickly. “Back off,” Decker growled when a man with a rifle stalked closer. A meaty hand wrapped around my bicep, tugging me out from under Dad just as a stream of bullets rained down on the room.
I covered my ears at the loud boom, and Dad dropped to the floor. I could hear sirens in the distance through the peppering shots. I screamed.
“Blakely!” Decker bellowed while trying to get to me.
“You’re not getting out of here alive,” Boss promised. It was so chaotic that I almost didn’t notice the gaping wound in Dad’s back. I almost didn’t notice how he was gasping for air or how his body twitched as his life fled from his body. I tried to run for him, but the man holding me kept pulling me back. I watched in terror as blood poured from his lips, and screamed until my throat was raw.
He died swiftly, though it felt like an eternity passed in the blink of an eye.
Another man slammed Decker against the wall. I watched in horror as the barrel of a gun found purchase against my temple. Still, the love of my life fought to get to me. “Get the fuck away from her!” Decker yelled.
I should have screamed. It seemed like the natural thing to do. But I was too shocked to even move. Another string of bullets rang out as the elevator doors opened, revealing an empty, cavernous escape we’d never get to use. The man holding me didn’t budge. My feet were stuck to the floor like the thick roots of an oak tree, buried deep despite the storm happening within the penthouse. “Blakely, fight!” Decker begged.
More bullets. Decker kicked the man pinning him down. “Kill him first. I want her to watch,” Boss demanded before finally turning away from the window to grab the briefcase full of cash. Most of the men left with him through a hidden set of stairs, but the two men detaining us stayed behind to finish the job.
Decker punched the man holding him. I was sobbing, not sure why I was still alive. I couldn’t stand to watch. This was my fault. Decker was going to die because of me.
Another punch.
Decker fought hard and landed a kick to the man’s gut.
Another punch.
Somehow the gun dropped to the floor during the struggle, and Decker seized his moment. They both lunged for the weapon, but Decker was first. That’s when I felt the cold metal of the gun pointed at me slipped from my skin. I watched in agony as the man holding me aimed at Decker.
The first shot hit his friend, but they both went down, the attacker landing on top of Decker. The man I loved groaned while trying to shove the dead body off of him. Another shot. Decker screamed like it had hit him, but I couldn’t see for sure.
“No!” I yelled. Slowly, Decker stopped struggling beneath the dense body on top of him. I felt my soul slip out of my mouth as I wailed. He was dead. Decker Harris was dead.
The man with the gun walked over toward the carnage with stoic calmness. He kicked at their bodies with a slight shrug before turning around to face me.
I took a good look at my soon-to-be killer. He wore tight jeans, a white shirt and had greasy, matted blond hair. Numbness relieved my soul of its agony, replacing despair with acceptance. “Do it,” I begged. I didn’t want to live in a world where Decker Harris and Frank Stewart didn’t exist.
He casually raised his gun and aimed right at my chest. A million thoughts rushed through my mind, but one prominent irony rang clear as a bell: It was poetic justice that he would shoot me in an organ that died the moment Decker Harris stopped moving. “You want me to kill you, don’t you?” he asked. The man had a deep Southern accent.
“Do it,” I said again, this time with more force. I closed my eyes, imagining a Ferris wheel. I imagined Decker and I sitting in our carriage, secluded from the world and lost in sensations. I imagined his lips on mine. I imagined his whispered promises. I love you. I love you. I love you.
Bang. A shot. An ending. A beginning. I clutched my stomach and looked down, expecting to see crimson. But there was nothing. Snapping my attention to the man threatening my life, I watched as he fell to the ground, blood pooling through his shirt.