However Long the Night

Chapter Twenty-Two

A firework exploded from the gun's mouth.

Skye's scream pierced the air, Bridget dropped like a stone, and Will's head spun as he watched bright red blood seep through her jeans onto the carpet.

Tom screeched.

"Oh my God! What did you make me do, Bridget? Shit! I didn't want to hurt you. It's all your fault! Look what you made me do!" Shoulders shaking, he held Skye tightly against his chest like a crying child clutching a doll.

"Mom! Mom! Are you okay? Mom!" Skye scratched at Tom to struggle free, her voice raw, her eyes wild, her features a twisted combination of rage and fear. "I hate you, Tom! Oh, my God, I hate you so much! Look what you did to her! This is your fault, you bastard. Your fault; not hers! You don't love us. You think you own us. This is on you! This is all on you! Mom! Mom!" Her voice soared higher and higher to the point of hysterics as she thrashed over and over against Tom's arms.

Bridget didn't look good. As the bullet tore at her thigh, she writhed in pain on the floor, skin pale, forehead beaded with sweat. Will tore his eyes from Tom and knelt beside her, pulling his shirt off to make a tight tourniquet. As he wrapped the material around Bridget's leg, he said a silent prayer that Dr. Archer's first-aid training would suffice. After all, they'd never discussed treatment for bullet wounds.

Will sensed his fingers working, but he felt numb. Bridget looked up at him, pursing her lips in a faint smile of gratitude, and he nodded in response, trying not to gag. There was so much blood. Warm and pungent, it pooled around the dark wound and soaked Bridget's pants.

Once the tourniquet was tied, Will wiped his hands on his jeans, trying to ignore his red, sticky fingers. Tom's cries were growing louder. Looking up, Will saw his knees begin to bend as he sobbed. Arm still clinging greedily onto Skye, weight dragging her down, Tom pressed his cheek against her hair as she hyperventilated.

They were too close to the edge of the top step.

Tom fixed his gaze on Bridget, who was panting and making a soft whimpering sound. His eyes moved from her body and stared down at the gun in his hand, widening in horror like he didn't recognize its cold, black body anymore. His breath was jagged, and so were his sobs. Hoping to take advantage of his distraction, Will started inching toward him again.

Maybe I can knock the gun out of his hands.

Just a few feet separated them when suddenly Tom caught Will's eye. The number in his left pupil stopped flipping and became a steely 3 again. Lifting his hand, he stared at his fingers as they clutched the gun. His expression shifted from grief to awe to fear, like the realization of what he'd done was slowly unfurling inside him. Breath heaving, Tom's arm shook, and his gaze slid back to Bridget before he turned his head and stared blankly at Will again.

Skye was crying, and her eyes were scrunched up so tight, Will couldn't see her 1 anymore, but Tom's 3 was alive. It turned down again into a waxy, yellow 2, and seemed to hover there for a second as he opened his mouth to speak.

"I just wanted to scare you, Bridget, but you didn't listen. You never listened. Why? I never meant to hurt you. I just wanted to make you behave; to make you stay. I loved you both in my own way, don't you see? Why didn't you just do what you were goddamned told? Everything would have been fine if you would have just listened." Tears slid into the deep scratch on his cheek and rolled down his chin. Pulling Skye even closer to his chest, he sobbed into her hair as she fought his grip.

Will crept forward, breathing through his teeth. The sound of his pulse was amplified inside his head, beating like a deafening drum. He forced his feet forward, slowly, slowly; his eyes never leaving the devil's face. Wiping his eyes with his sleeve, Tom appeared slack-jawed and spent. Looking up at Will, his waxy 2 turned down into a dusty 1.

Slithering a slow path up his side, Tom's hand still clutched the gun. Heart in his throat, Will watched helplessly as Tom pushed the weapon's hard nose snug against his own temple.

"No! Stop, Tom! Don't do this!" With only a few feet separating them, Will's arm shot out in front of him, clawing at the air, trying to get to Skye. Her eyes were wide open, her 1 beat frantically, and her lips formed a silent, perfect 'o'.

Watching in horror, Will's mouth gaped as Tom closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger, turning time inside out and shifting every particle in the house to slow motion. As the bullet blasted through Tom's head, Skye's screams sliced the air, searing Will's skin. Tom's body went limp, pulling Skye down with him. Will's fingertip grazed a wisp of her hair, but it slipped from his reach. Falling backward over the steep top step, they were gone.

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