SHUT DOWN | JENLISA

70

Jennie

I took that moment to headbutt her hard. I heard the sound of something cracking, and blood painted her face, but she didn't seem fazed as she pulled out a gun and aimed it at my forehead.

We were panting, in pain, bleeding, and hurt, and even though she had a gun aimed at me, I felt some sense of serenity pass over me.

She wouldn't shoot me. She just wouldn't. I could see the hesitation in her eyes. She could have taken the shot a while ago, yet she was faltering, and hesitating.

"Go ahead. Kill me, but you'll never know what really happened to Jackson."

She scoffed and took the safety off. "Do you really think that I'll believe anything you have to say?"

"You want proof?"

I cocked my head to the side and examined her. This wasn't the same person that's slept in my bed, who touched and kissed me. This wasn't the person who claimed she cared about me or hated seeing me upset. No, this person was a vengeful animal.

"The phone that Jackson had on him. It's turned off, isn't it? You can't get it to turn back on."

Her eyes went wide for a moment, but she didn't waver. Her nose was bloody and broken, and all the blood on her face turned on the crazed woman in me. Her black tee shirt was soaked through from the side where I stabbed her and from the top where I shot her.

She'd bleed out if she didn't add pressure to it. I didn't stab her deep enough to cause permanent damage, but just enough to get her off me. I dropped my hands and took a step towards her.

"Stop." She demanded.

I took another step and placed my hand on the top of the gun. I pressed it to my forehead and let out a heavy sigh.

"I'm tired, Lisa. I'm tired of everything and everyone. Do it. You'd be doing me a favour, but I won't die with you thinking that I killed Jackson. So know this, and then do whatever you want with me. I didn't kill Jackson at all. I loved him like he was my own brother."

"Shut up!" She shouted. "All you do is lie! You lie, and you kill!"

I closed my eyes, and a lone tear streamed down my cheek. Letting out a shaky exhale, I opened my eyes, and in that moment of weakness, I was able to take the gun right out of her hand and aim it at her. I took it apart and emptied the bullets before scattering them all over the room. She came at me, her fist balling and coming right at me, but I ducked and hit her in the stomach.

She let out a shout in pain and grabbed my ponytail, yanking me away from her. She pushed me hard, and I fell back and hit the wooden edge of my bed.

I cried out in pain and rubbed my forehead but couldn't think about the throbbing in my head before Lisa came at me again. She yanked me by my ankles to her and, this time, kept my hands up with one of hers before running her hands down my body and grabbing the other hidden knife.

She threw it across the room, and it went right under my bed. It was weird. It was like we were ridding each other of the weapons, so that we didn't kill each other. I leaned my head to the side and bit down on her arm, then reached up and dug my fingers into her bullet wound.

She screamed hysterically, and I used the opportunity to get out from under her. I stood up and kept my weight down and steady. Lisa was panting, bleeding, her anger and adrenaline still fuelling her as her hand came down hard on my stomach.

The pain was immense, and I shouted from the force of it that had me stumbling back. I was gasping for air and panting as I created distance between us.

"I swear to you on my parents' grave, it was not me who killed Jackson." I admitted, my hand wrapping around my stomach from the pain. "I'd never lie about this."

My confession had her halting in her place, and she looked stunned as she stared at me with wide eyes. At that moment, all my men and dogs barged into my room, and they were able to tackle her down and tie her up.

My dogs were trying to get my attention, and Mino was screaming out commands, but I was lightheaded. I steadied myself on the chair, and then my body gave out from exhaustion and pain. I heard the faintest sound of Lisa screaming my name, but I don't know if my imagination conjured it up or not.