Farm Girl Meets Bad Boy (#1)

Chapter Thirty-Two

“If you kill her, I’ll waste no time killing you,” Emery snaps through clenched teeth. His eyes don’t meet mine, but instead, glare at his own father’s. My whole body trembles under the grip of the foul smelling man, who continues to press the pistol to my head. With the small movement of his forefinger, in a second, I could be dead.

“We both know you won’t let me put a bullet in her pretty little head,” laughs Mr. Hastings, shoving the gun harder and harder into my temple. Emery’s eyes flicker to me for the first time as I wince. If I get out of this alive, there will be a bruise. “Times wasting.”

I watch in horror, as Emery’s grip on the shotgun falters. Slowly, not moving his eyes away from his father, he starts to put the shotgun on the ground. He’s giving up, in order to allow me to live.

“No!” I cry. “Emery, stop!” If he puts down the gun, his dad will surely kill him right away. He doesn’t listen to my pleas, but instead, gently rests the shotgun on the cold floor. His eyes look down at his feet as he straightens back out. He knows he’s defeated and only at the small price of saving my life.

“There we go,” laughs Mr. Hastings, removing the metal from my head. He grabs the top of my arm and throws me away. I stumble and fall a few feet away onto the ground, but Emery is the only one who seems to notice. His father steps forward cautiously, keeping the pistol pointed at his son the whole time. With shaky hands, he grabs the shotgun, and moves back. Laughing, he throws it into a pile of hay in a nearby stall. It makes a thump, which rings out in my ears. That was our only defense, and now it’s too far away to reach. “So now we finish this.”

He smiles revealing yellowing teeth, and I grimace. I want to get up and do something, but I don’t have any idea of what to do. The only thing I can count on is Mary coming back with her parents and the police. However I don’t know when she will get here, so I need to stall until she does.

“Please,” I whisper through tears. I slowly rise to my feet as Mr. Hastings keeps the pistol pointed at Emery. This could be the end for him, and I couldn’t bear to allow that to happen. “Don’t kill him.” Mr. Hastings eyes barely look towards me as I slowly step in the space between him. My legs feel like they’re going to collapse beneath me, but I can’t think about that now. I need to save the love of my life, even if that meant risking my own.

“River,” Emery says behind me. His voice is a mixture of anger and fear, but I refuse to move. “Get out of the way.”

“You should listen to him,” Mr. Hastings laughs darkly, his eyes glaring into mine. The pistol is now pointed at me, and I can’t take my eyes off it. But my body relaxes slightly knowing Emery is safe behind me, at least for now. “Or I’ll kill you too.”

“Don’t!” Booms Emery, his voice echoing in the empty barn around us. “Please, just let her go,” he begs, and his voice now sounds hopeless. I know that Emery has better experience with this kind of thing, but I can’t move to put him in the path of the gun.

“No,” Mr. Hastings smiles smugly. “I want her to watch you die.” Emery had been right all along, and I should have listened. His father really does want to kill him, and no wonder Emery knew he was going to die. Right now, it seems like that’s the only outcome. “Now move it, bitch, or prepare to die.”

“Prepare to die?” I laugh darkly, taking a step towards the gun that could kill me at any second. The adrenaline pumps through my veins as my survival instinct kicks in, or my instinct to make Emery survive. “You watch too many movies.”

“I’m not kidding!” He snaps, raising his voice. But I don’t listen. Following his orders would only mean Emery dying, and to prevent that, I need to prolong that as long as I can. Emery deserves better than the life his father has given him.

“River, get back here!” yells Emery, and I hear him step towards me. He rests a shaky hand on my right shoulder and starts to pull me back. I want to turn around and melt into him. I want to cry into his chest as I hug him tightly, and pretend that this isn’t what’s going on. Taking another step forward, my hand slowly reaches forward. I feel detached from my own body, as if someone else has taken control; as if this isn’t actually happening.

My right hand is open, ready to clasp over the silver pistol. My fingertips graze the cold, threatening metal as Mr. Hastings screams. It seems like time itself has stopped, as I feel the gun under my fingers. I don’t know what my intentions are except to get the gun out of the equation.

“I warned you!” He jerks the gun back, and then smashes it into the right side of my face. The force of the impact throws me onto the ground beside him, where I clasp my face at the immediate pain. Looking up, I realize that it’s the least of my worries. Emery’s father points the gun at him, and smiles darkly. I ignore my wound, and start to rise to my feet to save the only boy I have ever loved.

“You really are a stupid bitch, aren’t you?” Mr. Hastings turns towards me in an instant, with nothing but pure fury on his face. The gun moves with him, pointed at me within the grasp of his grimy hand. He smiles, cocking his head to the right. I watch in horror, as his finger presses down the trigger.

The gun makes a loud bang, deafening me for a few moments. During this time, I can’t process what had just happened. Mr. Hastings is glaring at me in satisfaction, and when I look to Emery, who luckily is perfectly fine, my heart stops. He looks at me in horror, with tears filling his eyes. If I live, I will never forget the expression on his face.

His glassy eyes are open wide in more than the simple shock I have labelled it as. His mouth hangs open, but not as if he’s yelling. It’s a gasp, because of what he has just seen.

Slowly, my gaze moves down to my own body when I see the blood. For a moment, everything is red; the floor, my jeans, my shirt. I remove my hands from my stomach, and turn them palm up in front of me. They’re dripping with my own blood as they shake uncontrollably. Tremors course through my body as I take in the dreadfulness in front of me. There’s a small, burgundy hole in the right side of my stomach. As soon as I see it, the pain hits, and I can’t control my horrified screaming.

Mr. Hastings has shot me. The bullet is lodged in my stomach. It could be in any number of vital organs, or even my bone. It wasn’t a shot to kill, but to maim. However without the help I need soon, I will die.

I look up in fear at Mr. Hastings, who’s still pointing the gun towards me. He’s laughing, and the sound is the only thing I can hear. There are only two thoughts that ring through my head. The first one is that I am probably going to die. The second is that I need to make sure that Emery doesn’t. Looking at him now, I want to tell him I love him, tell him to run, tell him to live; but I can’t. I can’t form words as my painful screams pierce the air around us.

My legs collapse underneath me, and I fall onto the ground. I lean against the stall door, trying to see clearly, and trying to think. My vision wavers off and on, and blackness lines the border of my vision. I can’t stop staring at the blood. The crimson is everywhere; marking everything. I’m covered in in, and so is the floor.

“River!” Emery’s voice pierces through the sound of my screaming, as it slowly dies down. My throat is dry and hoarse and soon I won’t be able to make the slightest noise at all. I watch through foggy, crying eyes as Emery starts towards me. He’s sobbing and screaming, staring down at my broke body.

“Don’t even think about it,” laughs his father, quickly turning the gun on his own son. It makes a metal noise as he prepares it for another shot; this one to kill, rather than maim. Emery freezes, looking between me and his father. He knows that trying to save me would mean his death by his father, and then mine from lack of medical care. The only option he has is to stay alive, and that means killing his father.

But as they stare at each other, I feel my time ticking away. The pain doesn’t subside, but instead gets worse by the second. My hands clutch the bloody wound tightly, trying to stop me from bleeding out. However, the odds of Emery and I both making it out alive seem very low.

I watch the gun that is grasped by the foulest man I have ever met. It points at loving, handsome Emery, who has his whole life ahead of him. Even if Mary were to pull in the driveway right this second with the police, it wouldn’t matter. Mr. Hastings is ready to kill his son.

If someone doesn’t do something quick, Emery and I are both going to die.