Page 34 of The Wolf

Poppy was on the floor on her knees. Her lip was bleeding, and her eyes were all puffy from crying. She was holding her stomach, and there was a large splotch of blood around her hands. The end of a small knife was poking out between her fingers.

He stabbed her. He fucking stabbed her!

Gerard was standing over her with a gun in his hand. . . My gun in his hand. He had several scratches on his face, as if she had attacked him like a wild cat eager to disappear into the darkness.

“Leave her alone!” I yelled as I lifted the gun in my hand, aimed it at her father, and pulled the trigger.

Gerard's eyes enlarged as he stared at me in shock. The room held a silence so thick it was deafening. My ears were ringing, and the subtle vibration from the bullet exploding out of the barrel was working its way up my arm.

There was a void around Poppy and her father that was filled with blackness. It was as if they were illuminated by a bright light, and the rest of the room was covered with black drop cloths. I could only see them.

Poppy was peering at me. Her skin glistened with fresh tears. She was shaking her head as her entire body folded over. Relief washed over her as she watched the gun her father was holding fall to the floor. Poppy scurried back, her eyes never deviating from her father.

Gerard didn't say a word. His eyes glazed over as he looked at me. His hand came up to touch his chest. Gerard pulled his hand away and looked down. His fingers were covered in fresh blood. He tapped his fingertips together, smearing the blood back and forth. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

His eyes moved back to mine, then down to his daughter.

The glaze turned chalky and dull as his legs gave out, and he dropped to the ground like a ton of bricks.

I knew the fire department and the police were on the way because I had pulled the alarm.

We had to get out. I needed to grab Poppy and leave before it was too late.

I looked down at Poppy. She was trembling as she pushed herself up off the floor. Our eyes met. Poppy's expression went from satisfied to stone still. Her eyes settled on my stomach. Her pupils expanded, and her mouth fell open.

“Come on, we've got to go while you still have the energy,” I said. “I have to take care of that wound.”

“Vega,” she whispered as she pointed.

“What?” I asked as I looked down. To my surprise, there was a giant puddle of blood at my feet. My shirt was soaked through, and my stomach was beginning to throb. “Fuck.”

I touched my stomach, feeling the wound.

There was a small hole to the right of my naval that I could feel with the pad of my finger.

All the adrenaline that had been rushing through my veins disguised the pressure and pain as nerves and anxiety.

I didn't feel the bullet. I didn't notice Gerard aim the gun and pull the trigger.

But as the reality set in, I began to feel lightheaded and woozy.

The light in the room started to dim and brighten as my body grew weak.

My vision was going in and out of focus.

I attempted to take a step forward, but my knees buckled, sending me to the ground.

Poppy darted to my side, grabbing me by the elbow to help me stay upright.

“Oh my god, Vega, you've been shot.”

“Is he still alive?” I asked as I tried to focus on Gerard.

His body appeared limp and lifeless. But you never knew. People could possum just as good as the animal itself. Poppy shook her head. “I don't know, and I don't care. We have to get you some help.”

The alarm was still blaring; its obnoxiously high pitch pierced my eardrums and sent daggers into my brain. My stomach was beginning to hurt. The adrenaline was slowing down now that her father wasn't a threat anymore.

“We need to go. I have to get you out of here.” I attempted to rise to my feet, only to quickly drop back down to my knees.

“No, no, no,” Poppy said. Her eyes were as large as saucers, and there was a panicked tone to her voice. “Stay with me, Vega. Stay with me.” She began to look around and yell, “Help! Someone help!”

I was trying to speak, yet nothing came out. It felt like my mouth and lips were in motion, but no words manifested. I attempted to push myself up, but my muscles wouldn't budge. My shoulders drooped, and my entire body collapsed to the floor.

Poppy was yelling as tears began streaming down her face. She looked frantic. But that was all I could tell because I couldn't hear her anymore. I was watching her scream with no sound. Her mouth was wide open, and the look on her face was just pure devastation.

The sharp pain in my gut had disappeared.

I was numb all over. It felt like the only thing I could move were my eyes.

I looked all around, trying to get Poppy's attention.

She was fixated on my stomach. Poppy was pushing both her hands against my belly, her skin now pale white with fear and splattered with my blood.

My eyelids began to blink heavily, staying closed longer each time.

And then there was nothing. My eyes closed, leaving me in darkness.

I didn't feel the gunshot anymore. I didn't feel the need to get away.

I didn't feel the fear for Poppy's life.

There was just a casual nothingness that set me at ease.

The nothingness was a calm that could blanket a roaring ocean into lulling waves. The turbulent vortex of my life had suddenly just stopped. I saw nothing. I heard nothing. I felt nothing. And for the first time in a long time, I felt peace.

My heavy heart was as light as a feather. The boulders that were usually carefully balanced on my shoulders were gone. The intense burn that would sear my throat daily disappeared.

What was this calmness that took over? Where was the world around me?

I listened intently, trying to force in the sound. It was faint, but it was there. I could hear voices in a flurry around me, but I couldn't hear what they were saying. I focused harder, trying to fucking find out what was happening outside of the darkness that had taken over.

“What do you mean?” I heard Poppy say. It was the first real, audible voice. “No. Keep trying! No! You're wrong! Keep going!”

“I'm sorry, there's nothing more we can do,” a man said. I didn't recognize his voice at all. “Is there someone we can call for you? A family member, maybe?”

“No,” Poppy said, her voice trembling. “There's no one left.” I could hear the tears in her tone. She was crying. But why was she crying? What was happening? Why couldn't I move?

“I really am sorry.”

“Can I have a minute?” she asked with a sniffle.

“Take all the time you need.” The man's voice faded as if he were walking away from me. I was so confused. Who was Poppy talking to? Why couldn't I open my eyes? What was he sorry for?

I felt a delicate touch against my hand. It was more of a sensation than a touch, similar to when your arm falls asleep and you try to wiggle your fingers. You can barely feel them, but it's just enough to know they're starting to wake up.

It hit me in the last few fragments of time I could put together, the very last explosions of electricity from one nerve to the next. . .

I died for her.

I gave my life for the only woman I ever loved.

And she was worth it. I would die a million times to protect her.