Panther tumbles to the floor as the bullet pierces his heart, making a hole. He doesn't cry, doesn't scream, he just falls and inhales a loud breath as his body hits the ground with a 'thud'.
Carter is the first one to come to his senses after the entire event has occurred and he crawls towards Panther.
"Fuck!" he curses, putting his hands over the hole on Panther's chest which is oozing blood. "Don't you fucking die, bastard."
Crimson liquid seeps through Panther's clothes, forming a pool on the wooden floor.
I don't imagine what happens next. Even though the act seems strange, it really happens. Panther is laughing. It is not a full-fledged laugh. It comes out as a giggle while blood starts pouring from his mouth.
I have never seen a person die.
But I will.
"Panther, don't close your eyes. The cops will be here soon," Carter says to the man who is fighting the last battle of his life. "There will be meds."
Both of Carter's hands are bloody now, colored with Panther's blood and his own. He tries to cover the bullet wound with a firmer press as if that will stop the flow. Panther grabs hold of Carter's sleeves as he keeps giggling and coughing out blood.
Then he turns his head and his eyes meet mine; the look in them is unfamiliar and maddening. I am knocked back to reality and the gun falls from my hand.
"He...corrupted you," Panther chuckles, the space between each of his white teeth stained with red. "He...corrupted you..."
He closes his eyes and laughs again. Then suddenly, he stops. His fingers grabbing Carter's sleeves fall to his sides and his body becomes completely still.
I see him breathe his last and I am the one who killed him.
"No, no, no..." Carter mutters with frantic breaths as he puts his ear over Panther's heart to listen to the sound of a beat.
He won't hear one because there isn't a beat left to be heard.
Panther is dead.
I killed him.
I am thrown back by the realization. My feet stumble as I put my hands over my mouth, going numb at the thought of what I have done. It hits me in a short second, all of it, together.
What is it that I feel?
Guilt, fear, or just...safety?
"Amaya..." Carter looks at me and goes quiet as I hit the wall behind me, sliding my body down.
My ears are ringing and everything is silent except for that ring. It is annoying and I put my hands to cover my ears but the ring doesn't go. I squeeze my eyes shut.
Maybe this is a nightmare. Maybe I am still on the couch watching Sherlock or even better, I am still six and my Dad is still alive. I have a real father and no one called Panther Black Gonzales is in my life. Maybe if I open my eyes, Dad will be near my bed and I will smile when I see him, holding the teddy that I won at the crossbow shoot. Children have wild imagination; I am just a part of my own.
But if I was a child, would I be feeling so much pain?
Hands are on my arms and someone is shaking me. I think it is Mom, asking me to wake up to get ready for school. Maybe this is the day I will first meet Kyle Dickson and become his little sister, the one he said he likes to bully. Maybe I am yet to grow up and when I do, I will grow up well. I will be with a Mom and a Dad, alive and well. Perhaps I will have a little brother or sister, or maybe an older one. I will be happy and just myself; I won't be a killer.
I should open my eyes. The pain in my chest will be gone too if I do. After all, this isn't real, is it?
So I do. I open my eyes and they meet Carter's green ones. I stare at him, the thoughts of this all being a nightmare vanishing away. I look at Panther's body lying a few feet away, lifeless, and then back at Carter.
"Is he? Is he...dead?"
He gives me just a tiny nod, almost unnoticeable but I notice it and break into tears.
"Am, it's okay." Carter pulls me to his chest, hugging me as his hands trail through the brunette locks of my hair.
I clutch his hoodie, grabbing it tightly in fists as I cry.
I have ruined it. I have ruined my life.
"I killed him...I killed him."
It is still a whisper — my voice. I don't know if I will find it back.
"You didn't kill him," Carter says. He holds me by my arms and pulls back from me so that he can look at me. "It was self-defense, okay? You didn't kill him."
"I did," I retort, the memory of operating the gun clear in my head. I have only ever held a toy gun before that. That's how I learned to shoot; my aim was always perfect. It is my inheritance from Dad. "I...I killed him. What did I do, Carter? They will take me away. I'll...I'll be punished. I...I'm a killer."
He brushes the hair away from my face and tucks the strands behind my ears. "You're not going anywhere. This was self-defense. He could have killed me. You saved me, love."
"No!" I push his hand away from my face and a look of alarm comes over his face. "You...don't understand..."
I sob, ignoring the ache in my chest which is growing with each passing minute.
"What is it?" Carter asks, oblivious to what I mean at all.
"I...they will take...me. There will be a case. This is homicide, Carter!" I clutch my head between my hands. "It'll ruin everything...my future."
I had dreams and I crushed them with a gun in my hand.
"Amaya, this was self-defense," Carter persists.
"No, it wasn't. I wanted to...kill him. He was unarmed...it's a crime. I committed a crime," I utter between sobs. I look up at Carter and find him staring blankly at the floor, a thoughtful look on his face. "I'll be judged...and not just in court."
I will be judged everywhere. My school, the society, and there will be a criminal record to show wherever I go.
The siren of police cars catches our attention and I shiver. Carter's eyes flicker to me as he narrows them. He cups my face, his hands cold and sticky with blood, and I close my eyes, inhaling his scent mixed with a metallic smell as he leans down and presses our lips together.
His lips are warm and firm against mine. Just a soft peck, telling me things I don't want to hear. Yet, I feel it. I feel it in his kiss.
He is saying goodbye.
He presses our foreheads together as he rubs a tear off my cheek with his thumb. He was right — it is just he and I; it will always be he and I. We are each other's balance. We have the power to build or break each other.
"Remember what I said?" he asks and I look at him, my eyebrows coming together to create a puzzled expression.
"Wh...what?" I grab his wrist as I watch him.
He reaches out with the hand which rubbed my cheek and I follow its movements. Without taking his eyes off me, he picks up the gun and holds it with a finger on the trigger. He doesn't press, just holds the gun like he is about to shoot.
"What are you doing?" I look between him and the gun in a moment of fear.
"Taking the last jump for you," he says, kissing me again and it all falls into place.
"No!" I scream in a low but audible voice as we hear footsteps above our heads.
Carter keeps kissing me while I try to push him away. I reach out to grab the gun from his hand but he moves it behind his back, somewhere I can't reach without hurting my chest.
"Carter, don't!" I cry as I push at his chest. He keeps me trapped to the wall with a knee to my thigh. "Give it back, you fucking idiot!"
I try to kick him but the pain in my chest increases. Panther's sedative has worn off and the ache is too much to bear.
"Know that I love you, Am," Carter hums, holding my chin and making me look at him. "Know that I'll risk it all if it means you'll love me back."
"Carter..." I struggle to form words because he kisses me again to silence me and I hear the footsteps enter the basement.
"Drop the gun! Get away from her!" an older and authoritative voice shouts as more people storm in, dressed in blue and white.
Carter's lips leave mine as he is pulled away from me and my vision starts to blur but I still see him. They have taken the gun from him and are making him wear handcuffs while two paramedics wearing white costumes kneel beside Panther's body and one walks towards me.
"Stop! He...didn't...do...it. I..."
I drag my body towards Carter who is being pulled away from me by the cops. I clutch the sides of my body, the blinding pain making my vision darker. The paramedic reaches for me but I swat her hands away. They are pulling Carter by his arms, no one taking a second to tend to the injury in his hand. Blood drips from his hand over the floor and I am the one who cries without a voice as they start pulling him out of the basement.
Carter can't do this. I can't let him.
"He...didn't..." My words fail to grab attention as I fall to the floor while the paramedic has to forcefully turn me around to treat me.
I see a stretcher being brought in and someone picks me up to place me on it as I moan in pain.
I feel something like a needle pierce my arm and in another second, everything disappears around me as I am whisked off to a long sleep without dreams.