"Brenda..." Mark stood. His trembling hands clutched his gun. With the barrel against his temple, tears welled up in his eyes. He hissed. He stumbled. One of his legs knocked into his couch.
Having fallen, I looked behind me. I saw Maggie first. She sat on the floor with her legs folded under her. Tears streamed down her face as she cried, screaming endlessly.
Brenda lay in front of her. Blood spilled out of her stomach. When she coughed, it stained her lips. Droplets landed on her chin and her cheeks. Pain and regret closed around my neck and lungs, suffocating me, strangling me. I fucked up.
"No!" Struggling to turn over with the shooting pain in my arm, I crawled over to the two of them. Pressure filled my chest; my heart struggled. I couldn't breathe. I had to.
"Mommy!" Maggie screamed as she tugged at Brenda's arm. "Mommy, please! Please!"
Brenda's eyes fluttered open, focused on the ceiling. With my mechanical eye, I struggled to scan her. I couldn't power down now; not like before. Pain was nothing compared to this. I needed to see her.
"I. No. Shit. Fuck!" Mark panted. As I army-crawled forward, I glanced back at him. Sweat formed on his brow and dripped into his bloodshot eyes. Tears slid down his cheeks. He chewed on his lip as he paced like a terrified child who'd made the worst mistake. He did. He shot his girlfriend—my ex.
"Brenda." Once at her side, I touched her face and got her to look at me. Tears slid down her cheeks. I couldn't feel her under my fingertips; my arm was numb. Half of my body tingled. Was it the blood loss?
Maggie scooted close to me and tugged on my arm next. Her tear-filled eyes peered up at me as if she silently pleaded that I would save her mother. I wanted to. "Papi..." she whimpered.
"Gio." Brenda's hand shook as she touched my face. She gasped with each breath. Blood spilled onto her lips as she coughed. Tears burned in my eyes as I pressed my cheek into her palm. "Gio," she wheezed.
"Don't." I applied pressure to her gunshot wound. "Please, don't say anything."
"I wasn't supposed to shoot her!" Mark shouted from the corner of the living room." Fuck! This is your fault! Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
I ignored him and focused on Brenda's face. A salty tear slipped between my lips. "Brenda."
"Fuck this, shit!" Mark's feet echoed as he scurried around the room. His shadow bounced off of the walls.
"I need to... say something," Brenda croaked. "Gio, I—
"Don't." I pressed a finger to her lip. "Whatever it is, don't. I'm going to get help." As I stared at her pale face, I tapped into my systems. I struggled to pull up my call commands. It lifted before my eyes, letters appeared, and my contacts were selectable. As soon as I tried to find Kimi's contact, my system faded, shutting off like an old TV. She was losing blood, and I couldn't see how bad it was; I couldn't call anyone. I swallowed my tears. Watching someone you used to love die... I can't do it.
"Fuck!" Mark shouted. I finally glanced back and caught him as he pulled a bag out of a corner closet. Static filled the air. I felt it. He did, too. He cupped his hands over his ears, dropped the bag, and kicked it with one foot. It opened in front of him, but he left it there as he backpedaled. "I can't. I can't." He glanced at me as his red eye flickered. His cheeks were wet with tears.
Fuck. I looked back at Brenda. Her brown eyes peered into mine. Tears slid sideways down her cheeks. She sucked in a breath, hiccupping as blood came up again.
"Please." I pressed my hand harder against her stomach. "Stop trying to talk."
Maggie bawled. Her tiny hands pushed off of me and moved over to Brenda. She gripped her mother's bloodied shirt. She tugged, pulled; she pressed into the bleeding wound with me. Nothing we did; no amount of pressure could stop the bleeding.
"I'm sorry." Brenda lifted her hand and grabbed mine. "Forgive me."
This wasn't happening. Memories of our happier days flashed over my eyes. We were high school sweethearts, rebels in crime. I thought back to the first time I saw Brenda. She was dangerously gorgeous. Her smile drove me crazy, and when she talked to me, I lost it. Every time. She was my ride-or-die. Life wasn't supposed to be this way. I wasn't supposed to—no, don't think it, Gio, just keep pressing.
Looking down at her, tears continued down my face. I disliked this woman, but I didn't hate her. The love I had was still in my soul. And as I stared into her eyes, it resurfaced. I wiped one of her tears away. "I never said I was mad at you." At least, not out loud.
Maggie let go. Her tiny arms struggled to wrap around my waist as she came back over to me and cried.
"Just," Brenda squeezed her eyes shut, "say... it."
I heard Mark hit the wall. I looked back just as he hit his head with his gun, growling to himself. As the static in the air faded, he kicked the bag, then glanced at us. I looked away before we locked eyes.
Brenda's heartbeat fluttered. The weak vibrations hit my palm. My arm twitched, reacting to it. I had to give her what she wanted; the last words she needed to hear. With a hiss to hide my cry, I said, "I forgive you."
Brenda's hand reached for Maggie next; her focus shifted. The tiny sniffles from our daughter, like needles pricking my skin, caused me to jump. I pushed up from my knees and stood; the pain couldn't stop me. I turned just as Mark tried to grab his bag again. He turned to leave, but I wasn't going to let him.
"M-manual processing a-a-accepted," my computers buzzed with broken words as I tapped into my systems. "Bo-one shield-d ini-ni-tiated."
With blood spilling down the front of my shirt, I kicked back into a sprint and aimed for Mark. He sidestepped; I lunged at him. My shoulders slammed into his gut. With us so close, I grabbed him and squeezed.
He growled and dropped the bag. He bent forward, so his shoulder slammed into me. "Let me go, fuck!"
No. I wasn't going to let him go. This needed to end. Months of searching, years of anguish, this ended tonight.
I let Mark go enough that he stumbled back. And I kicked him. Hard. The sound of my shoe breaking his ribs was music to my ears.
"B-bone s-s-shield, fifty percent."
He buckled, clutching his chest. "Brenda..." he breathed between gasps. "I'm sorry."
"No." I reached forward and grabbed his hair. I lifted his head. Anger surged through me, and I saw it; fuzzy, unclear, dangerous red. "You don't... get to say... her name."
Mark's hand slid away from his ribs. His eyes flashed as he looked up at me. "She's my wife," he hissed.
Wife. Fucker. No, she wasn't. My knee slammed into his chin. His head rocked as I shouted, "You fucking shot her!"
His hand lifted. I didn't see the gun until it was too late. As he fell back, he fired. This time, the bullet tore through my stomach. The metal settled within my organs. It burned. It hurt. My systems registered the location just behind my large intestine. I saw white.
"Fuck you." Mark stood, stumbling back into the hall. He kept his gun pointed at me. "None of this was supposed to be this way...."
I glanced down at my shirt. Red, black, and brown, pushed through my shirts, slipping down my chest. It soaked into my jeans, sticking to my legs. I took one step and inhaled sharply.
"You weren't ready for this." When Mark stepped back, he pressed his gun into the back of his pants. He rubbed tears off of his face. "And neither am I."
My heart hammered, pounded, close to exploding. As Mark ran, I should've followed him, but Maggie screamed, and I looked back. My soul shattered. My daughter needed me. Mark had to wait. No, I had to wait.
Weakly, I turned back. Maggie's grief rang in the air. As my gaze panned down, I saw Brenda. Her eyes were closed. Her hand had fallen from Maggie's. She wasn't breathing, trembling; nothing. A weak, glitched scan from my computer proved she was dead.
Brenda, no....
A hint of green and silver caught my attention. The bag Mark left behind was beside me. The zipper was opened. Inside, there was money, bands of it. This was his backup bag, wasn't it?
"Papi!" Maggie screamed as she ran over to me. Ignoring my pain, I bent forward. I grabbed her and held her; she whimpered into my sleeve. I struggled to lift her into my arm. With the other, I grabbed the bag. "He's going to kill me, too," she sobbed. "Like Mommy..."
"No." My vision blurred as I looked at the front door. The living room and hallways swayed, but I kept steady. I had to, for her. "I'm going to get you somewhere safe," I whispered as I walked forward. Glancing down at the bag, I made sure I didn't drop it. "And make sure you're safe for a long, long time...."
***
September 1st, 2019
My eyes snapped open. The bank's ceiling came into view. Bright, yet flickering. It couldn't be broken. Was it me?
"Did you grab it? Shit!" Tommy's voice rang in my ears. What happened moments before came back to me. We demanded the money. The tellers placed what they could in the bag. They were bringing it to us, pleading to Tommy not to shoot. But he did. He fired at them. They didn't deserve it. They were innocent. Shooting them wasn't a part of our plan. "Oh, thank fucking God, man!"
My head throbbed as I struggled to sit up. My hands trembled as I balanced myself. Whimpers and cries filled the bank. Customers were still inside, huddled by the entrances, praying the officers outside would storm in. Red and blue flashed outside. Chatter echoed from walk-talkies. They planned to arrest us, didn't they? This was it. We were done.
"Nah, leave him!" I turned my hand and looked behind me. From behind the table, I saw both Tommy and Ruben with duffle bags in their hands. But as I focused on them, I looked around them. My eyes widened, and terror ripped my soul to shreds.
"Fuck...." There were bodies at their feet. There was Teller Tommy had shot; and six others. All lifeless, all dead. The woman who had stepped out of her office lay in the center of the lobby, a gunshot wound in the center of her head. With her eyes wide open, I peered into her death as if it were mine. "Fuck!" I jumped up and stumbled back.
Ruben looked at me first and frowned. Tommy glanced at me, too, but he wasn't sad. He grinned as he pointed at me with his trigger finger.
"What the fuck, man!" I rushed over to him. Shaking with rage, I pushed him. Once. Twice. He barely budged. "What the hell happened? Why did you shoot them? Why?!"
"Casualties." Tommy shrugged. "Shit happens."
"Shit happens?" I screamed. "The fuck—" The main entrance was forced open. Police officers rushed inside. Fear gripped my chest as they ran in our direction. I looked back at Tommy, at Ruben, thinking we'd gun it for the back door. They didn't move. They seemed calm. Relaxed. WHY?!
"Get down!" An officer slammed into my back. The air left me as I hit the ground. Blood from one of the victims landed on my face and lip; I tasted copper on my tongue. I struggled. Tears burned in my eyes as I told myself I couldn't get caught; I couldn't afford to get arrested. Maggie needed me. She would need her father, a form of guidance, a light to look to. But I wasn't it.
Looking at Ruben and Tommy, and the expanding grin on that fucker's face, my tears fell. They slid down my cheeks and into the blood of the people he killed. I couldn't be what I needed to be. He and my "friends" made sure of it.