Page 110 of The Rowdy Ones

The bedding beneath me grows saturated. Must be all the blood. Who the hell stabbed me?

My lungs burn and then I start to cough. The pain is unbearable. With each cough, I taste the metallic tang of blood on my tongue.

In the far distance, I can hear Destiny sobbing as she tells someone to send an ambulance. Uncle Atticus is doing something to my back. Pushing on it maybe? It hurts and I wish I could shove him away. Why isn’t Wild doing anything?

Did he do this?

Because I chose my sister over him?

My heart breaks at the thought of him doing something so heinous. Or maybe it wasn’t him at all. Maybe Alex got loose. What if it was Evan and he was mad at me getting Alex caught?

“They want to talk to you,” Destiny says, closer than before. A voice can be heard, but it’s too soft for me to hear. Destiny’s small, sweet hand touches my ass and she starts to cry harder. “Oh God. He’s so cold, Uncle Atticus.”

A dark wave claims me completely.

I’m jostled awake and I hear screaming. It’s hysterical and nonsensical. Also, it’s snowing. I’m on a stretcher and am being carried out of the RV. Nearby, a female screeches with hatred. Some kind of mountain lion?

“Stop,” a deep voice booms. “Fucking stop!” Then with a cracking voice, he says, “Dad, help me.”

I try to turn my head toward them, but my eyes close without my approval. Every movement on the stretcher sends sharp pains throughout every nerve ending. Tears streak from the corners of my eyes. This is agony.

What is happening?

Where is Destiny?

This sends me into another coughing fit that hurts so fucking bad I beg for death to take me.

No. I don’t want that. I just want to stop hurting.

Scout barks his head off, but no doubt is doing nothing. He’s useless when it comes to protection. I suppose I am too. I couldn’t even protect myself. At least Destiny seems to be okay.

A heavy, dragging feeling tugs at me deep, deep inside. It’s as if my soul is being pulled from my body. The sensation is so terrifying, I cry out for my father.

Dad, please help me.

Whenever I was a boy and scared, Dad always came to the rescue. He’s terrifying for his enemies and protective over the ones he loves. One day, I want to be a dad like him. Even if I could be half the father he is, it would still be good. I miss him so fucking much.

But he’s nowhere.

I’m all alone, being carried away from the only people around here who love me.

Darkness steals me again.

Bright lights burn into my eyes from behind my eyelids, jolting me back to awareness. Based on the sterile smell and chaos of voices and machinery, I think maybe I’m in the ambulance.

“Sir,” a person says, “can you open your eyes? Talk to us and tell us what happened.”

It feels like an impossible feat. My mouth only works to cough. More blood in my mouth. More dizzying pain in my chest.

“Rapist! He’s a rapist! Not her husband! Not her husband!”

The screams of the mountain lion have words, but they’re silenced as the door closes with a slam. A surge of panic ripples through me, which sends another fit of coughs bursting from me.

I feel like I can’t breathe.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t fucking breathe.