Page 26

The car's tires screeched to a halt as I pulled over outside Bryce's apartment, my heart pounding in my chest. All I could do was hope that I wasn't too late. With the keys jingling in my hand, I exited the vehicle and rushed toward the entrance.

Luckily, the door was unlocked, so I barged inside just in time to see him standing on a stool with a rope, which extended from the ceiling, around his neck.

“Bryce…” I began, slowing down my pace at the unpleasant sight, my voice low and cautious. Both hands were held up in front of me as I took gentle steps forward. “Bryce, listen to me. Let's talk this out, okay?” I held his gaze, my attention fully focused on him.

“What's there to talk about, Smurfette?” he questioned, his face sweaty and pale and his eyes dim, devoid of hope. “Life is meaningless without you.” He whimpered, fingers gripping the ropes tighter. “I might as well just end it all now.” He tugged the knotted area of the rope down to his neck.

“No, wait!” I exclaimed, stretching out my hands, eyes widening in fear.

“Why?” he thundered amidst sobs. “Why shouldn't I end the pain and misery? Give me one good reason!” His eyes, burning with agony and defeat, stared deeply into mine.

At that moment, I was speechless, unable to think like a rational human being. This was a delicate situation, and my choice of words would determine the outcome of this conversation.

I stepped with caution toward him, still holding his gaze. “Please, Bryce, just…just get off the stool,” I begged, pleading with my eyes. “We can settle this like adults. No one has to die.”

He stared at me in silence, the stool unstable beneath him. One wrong move, and he'd hang. His neck would snap like a twig.

Tears welled my eyes as I struggled to shove back the gruesome images forming in my head. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I watched him die like that. It would mess with my sanity for life.

I didn't think I'd ever be able to forgive myself or get over the trauma.

My eyes misted, my heart pounding heavily as I approached him. “Bryce, please, I'm begging you…get off the stool.” The slight pause came when my gaze dropped to the unstable furniture he was standing on.

The four legs of the stool seemed weak and were rocking back and forth in a treacherous manner. If just one leg should break, it would be bye, bye, Bryce, but I wouldn't have that. No.

My gaze swept across the interior for anything to improvise with—anything at all. From where I stood, if his legs were to slip off that stool and he hanged, my only hope would be to go for the rope—to cut it. But to do that, I'd need something sharp.

That was when I spotted a knife on the table beside two half-eaten oranges just to my right. Would I be fast enough to grab it and use it if Bryce was clumsy enough to kick the stool?

My gaze rapidly shifted across the man ready to die and the object that seemed like the only hope should my words fail.

“Bryce,” I called softly, tears stinging my eyes, “if you ever truly cared about me—”

He shook his head. “Don't do that. Don't try to manipulate me, Smurfette,” he said, his voice breaking.

I ignored him and continued regardless, “…if you ever truly loved me, you'll get off that stool…please….”

His throat wobbled, swallowing hard. “But you hate me—”

I cut him off, my voice trembling, eyes glancing at the knife, “No, I don't–”

“You said it yourself; you never wanna see me again,” he said, buttressing his point, his body rocking to the movement of the unstable stool.

“Yes, but I didn't mean that you should kill yourself,” I replied, calculating how fast I'd have to run to grab that knife and cut the rope before he did anything stupid.

He went silent for a moment as though he was reconsidering his decision, and I could hear the sound of my own heart racing with anticipation. I hoped that he got off the stool, safe and unharmed.

However, the opposite happened, stealing my breath and hitting me with a dose of adrenaline.

Bryce's legs slipped off the stool as I'd thought, and with the flash of fear in his eyes, I could tell that this hadn’t been his intention. Maybe it was a mistake. He’d probably made up his mind to get down but missed a step.

The stool fell off, and he hanged immediately, both hands flying to frantically slip his fingers between his neck and the rope.

“No!” I sprinted, feeling the rush of adrenaline pumping through my blood. Within seconds, I grabbed the knife and jolted across the living room to where he was.

The rope strangling him was higher than I could reach, so I hopped on the coffee table, struggling to cut the rope. The damn thing was either too strong, or the knife was too blunt. Either way, I was taking too much time, and Bryce was dying.

My hand moved faster than it had ever moved as I struggled to cut through the rope. I could hear him choking, wheezing, his legs flailing in the air as the rope snuffed the very life out of him.

“C'mon, c'mon, c'mon….” The words burst out of me in a frantic rush, my hands trembling but unrelenting against the rope.

Soon, I was victorious, finally cutting through it. Bryce's body thudded to the floor as he gagged and coughed, his eyes bulging out of their sockets.

“It's okay, it's okay,” I reassured, my voice smooth and tender.

He jerked his eyes, watching me with wide, tear-filled eyes. I lowered myself and embraced him, placing his head on my chest.

“It's okay…. You're okay,” I said, smoothing down his hair.

Bryce lay in my warm embrace for a moment before raising his head, a smile spreading across his face. “You couldn't let me die.”

“No.” I shook my head, holding his gaze. “I couldn't, and I won't.”

His smile broadened, eyes crinkling at the corners. “This only proves that you still love me…. Lori, get back together.” Bryce grabbed my hands tightly, and his sudden move caused me to flinch.

“Get back together?” I asked, brows furrowing with concern at the determination that colored his eyes.

“Yes,” he said, squeezing against my fingers. “Clearly, you still love me as much as I love you. Why else would you risk everything and come around…alone?”

Now, I was starting to worry; his tone had just turned sinister, and the firmness of his grip was causing me pain. I swallowed hard, afraid that I might have gotten myself into deep trouble.

I tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let go. “You're hurting me, Bryce,” I complained.

He ignored me and leaned closer, his eyes sparkling with scary excitement. “Run away with me. We can start a new life together.”

I shook my head, tears streaming down my cheeks, hating that I'd have to turn him down. “I'm married, Bryce,” I said, looking into his eyes. “And I'm carrying a baby inside me… his baby.”

His expression darkened slowly. His jaw clenched, and a scowl settled on his face. “Well, that's a shame,” he said, his tone deep and menacing as he let go of my hands and rose to his feet.

I flicked my wrists, rubbing them in a soothing motion, while my eyes watched him, wondering what he was up to.

Bryce's scowl deepened, and he glared at me, withdrawing lighter from his pocket. It was only now that I smelt the gasoline on the floor, and my heart sank into my stomach, my eyes widening at the realization of his plan.

“Bryce…” I whispered, my chest heaving slowly as I watched him flick on the flame.

His lips curled into an evil smirk. “If I can't have you, then no one else will.”

“Bryce, no!” I exclaimed, my heart leaping into my throat.

But I was too late. He dropped the lighter, and the gasoline on the floor went up in flames. I ran to the door, but it was jammed, sealing me inside with this maniac.

The fire was growing, consuming everything in its path, while Bryce stood there, laughing, watching me struggle with the door handle.

If the fire didn't kill me first, the smoke would.

The curtains went ablaze, filling the room with the choking smell of smoke and burned fabric. I buried my nose in my elbow, running around the living room as I sought ways to escape, but there were none.

I could feel the excessive heat, and soon, I was sweating profusely, choking and coughing as I dropped to the floor, weak.

“You're trapped in here with me, Lorena. We'll die together…. This is destiny!” Bryce spread out his arms, laughing like a psychopath.

But that wasn't my problem right now. I couldn't die like this—no.

In what seemed to be like my last moment, all I did was hope and pray that Alexei found me on time.