“Are you okay?”
“Yes, I can run.” She nods, and I let her down gently before we pick up the pace again, sprinting across the center of the building headed straight for the car.
We’re moving at top speed, and I think I catch a glimpse of Blondie through the cracks in the brick. Damn it, Jack, why can’t you do what you’re told? We keep up our pace, quick and steady, but for a second, I think I hear sirens.
“Should we wait here for the cops?” Jess yells even though there’s no need to.
“No. I’m not taking any more chances with you. We’re leaving.” I call back, reaching out my hand for her to take. Her hand barely grazes mine when I have to pull it back. The sound of Carlito gaining on us alarms me enough that I go straight under my shirt for the G34 that's still strapped to my chest. I have the good sense to reach for it when I hear him, but I hope I have enough time.
I can't quite figure it out, but this is how things go for me when I’m in a panic. Life turns in slow motion. I’m moving through the water, fighting the strong resistance it’s putting up against my determination. There’s something awful about it, like a sickening feeling that I’m in a nightmare, but I know I’m not. It won’t go away until I complete the task or my opponent is dead. But I can’t kill my brother.
I unhook the gun from its strap, fidgeting too long with the hooks and ties. The weight of it shifts in my hands as my right foot collides with the ground, and I pull it out in one swift movement. If I pop him in the leg, it’s our best bet to ensure he can’t keep up with us.
Fuck, I don’t normally have to worry about this shit. If I shoot, I shoot to kill. If I aim at something, I aim for the target. I don’t know where the areas of the body are that have the most vulnerable veins. Hence, why I killed Warui’s leader on a bloody whim. The goal tonight is that no one dies, not even my twisted traitor of a brother, Carlito.
I hear the loud crack of his gun firing before I get a chance to even turn around. For a split second, I’m devastated, stopped in my tracks by the shock that he’s shot Jessica. But he hasn’t. The one he shot is me.
My entire head feels as though it's been split open like a busted watermelon, shattered like a crystal vase. I’m surprised that I can still feel my body fall and my bones crash to the gravel as I slide to a stop.
I hear Jess’s tortured screams bring me more pain than I've ever experienced in my life, and I hope this is hell— I deserve it for what I’ve put her through. Her hands are on mine, I think, but I’m beginning to lose every sense. I think my eyes are open, but everything is black. The last remnants I hear of life on this side of existence are Jess’s cries, the clap of another gunshot, and the blaring sirens of justice in the distance.
Everything fades to black—chaos, darkness, death. The cycle of my life summed up without the glimmer of hope I had in the all-consuming love I fortuned with Ms. Jessica Lee. It’s a terrible feeling to be gone— to not know what has happened to the people I cherish, to feel the burden of their grief, to be confident in the permanence of my demise.
My only regret is not that I didn't achieve everything I wanted, or that I wasn't able to mend the disaster Carlito has enacted between gangs, or even missing the chance to say one last goodbye. No, none of those equally valid remorses.
The only regret, burning the remnants of my fading soul, is that I never got the chance to tell Jessica Lee how madly, eternally, detrimentally I was— am— in love with her.