Page 332 of The First Taste

Constantine’s smug smirk as I reach for him, my arms jerking out as I lurch away, pulled down by gravity.

Looking at the weedy side of the road as I make my way home, my mouth squeezes into a small pout. My right fist clenches, a constant reminder of Constantine.

Maddie is dead.

I will never be the same again.

I will always be damaged.

No one can ever truly love me again. Not that I want them to.

I’m done with men.

Actually, I’m just done with everyone.

I’m so sucked into my bitter, dark thoughts by the time I reach the gas station closest to my house that I don’t even notice the gun at first. Trudging across the Chevron’s broken square of pavement, I notice some commotion happening between the three men to my right. Their raised voices nudge my plodding footsteps into a scurry. Then one of them hurls a command at me in a youthful, almost squeaky tone.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Stop!”

I blink, freezing and looking up. I see two white men in dark hoodies, boys really, with their guns trained on me and a young black girl with her hands in the air. I realize that she is wearing a yellow and red polo that probably marks her as an employee.

She’s also crying, big fat tears running down her scrunched up face.

I take it all in, my brain overheating. The grocery bag drops from my fingers and I raise both my hands in a sign of surrender.

One of the young men motions me closer, toward them. “Get the fuck over here, bitch.”

I ignore him for a second, making eye contact with the woman that they have hostage. It may be stupid, but all I can see when I look at her face is how young she is.

Younger than Maddie, even.

I know in that moment that I can’t leave her. She shakes her head miserably when I make eye contact with her, but I don’t know how to interpret that.

My blood pressure is sky high as I look at the young men.

“What do you want?” I ask. “I don’t have a phone. I’m not going to call anybody. Neither will my friend here. Right?”

I ask the cashier a pointed question. She nods her head, holding back a sob. “That’s right.”

I swallow, my nerves almost getting the best of me. My body flashes hot and cold. “Let us go. Or let her come over here. I can keep her calm. Y’all can take what you need from the store and then go.”

The two young men share an uneasy glance. “That’s not going to fucking happen,” one of them says, his lip lifting in a snarl. “Now get the fuck over here. I ain’t asking you again.”

I wet my lips with my tongue. “I’m not coming any closer.”

He steps closer, raising the gun to my head. I can’t help my response, which is to cower. I drop my gaze and my whole head moves further away from the gun, closer to the ground.

“Move, you dumb bitch!” he shouts.

“Okay,” I whisper. “Okay, I’m going?— “

I hear the crack of a gunshot. I flinch, thinking for a split second that the gunman pulled the trigger. But in the next breath, the gunman that threatened me is on the ground, a bullet hole still smoking right between his eyes. All the air is sucked out of my lungs as I watch the life flicker out of his eyes. His face falls to the side and his body goes slack.

For a second, I can hear nothing but the gunshot reverberating as I stare at him in horror. I look up and see three dark haired men approaching, their suits all black and their weapons drawn. They look like avenging archangels as they move into the parking lot with quick, practiced steps.

Who are they? Where did they come from?

Why the hell do they have guns?