Loser II || WlW

Thirty-Seven

     Roger gives Donna a push and holds the rifle against his shoulder, pointing it at the center of her back as she walks toward the shed. She's limping and the gauze she wrapped around her arms earlier is soaked with blood. As she gets closer I notice the black eye and dried blood under her nose. She didn't go down without a fight.

"This is your fault," Grace spits.

I don't say anything, just clench the windowsill tighter as my vision sways. She's right in a sense. I've had so many opportunities to end this and I haven't taken any of them.

Brittany places a hand on the small of my back. "Sounds like someone's projecting their own guilt," she mutters.

Grace rolls her eyes, wipes a tear with the back of her hand.

Donna nearly collapses once she's in the shed with us but Grace catches her before she hits the ground and lowers her gently so they're both sitting on the concrete.

"Babe." Grace is smoothing Donna's hair out of her eyes. "It's okay. We're going to get out of this."

Donna doesn't respond, just leans on Grace's body for support. Her eyes are locked on Brittany as she says, "he told me to give you a message."

Grace looks at her curiously.

"He'll let us all go if we give him Brittany," she says.

Grace and Donna are both looking at Brittany now.

I shield her with my body, return Grace's glare. "Shove it up your ass."

"I'm just an innocent bystander," Donna argues. "I don't deserve any of this."

Brittany moves me out of the way. "None of us deserve any of this."

"Except Grace." I raise an eyebrow at her.

Grace moves to her feet. "Give it a break, Jordan."

My lip twitches over my teeth involuntarily. "If I see either of you trying to hand Brittany over to them, I'll kill you both." By the terror in their eyes, I assume they're taking my threats seriously but to top it off, I add, "If you think I won't, remember that I'm the only one who didn't have an alibi when Roger's son was murdered."

Grace's forehead wrinkles as I see the realization hit. She's the one who gave me an alibi. She said I got sick and she tucked me in bed when, in reality, I was pushing some kid over the railing in the room we're standing in now.

I'm always fighting so hard to push back against the stigma people hold against me. Always trying so hard to pretend I'm normal. Hiding my medication in drawers when anyone comes over has become the usual and avoiding everyone who knows about my past is a must. But now? Now I'm openly embracing the crazy, hoping to god Grace and Donna will take me seriously enough to stay away from Brittany.

Grace's eyes narrow at me as she says, "It doesn't look like you'd be much of a fight, regardless." She helps Donna to her feet before they walk to the other side of the shed and sit on a storage crate.

Brittany takes hold of my elbow and helps lower me to a sitting position. "You're really pale, J."

I try to swallow but my mouth is so dry, it feels like my throat might crack open.

"You already bled through your gauze," Brittany murmurs as she digs through the first aid kit. "You have to stop moving so much."

I lean my head back against the wall. Everything is spinning. "What's the plan?"