JESSICA
I’m suspended between reality and feeling. My feelings tell me I’m going to die, Carlito is going to kill me, and there’s nothing I or anyone else can do to change it. My head is aching, and I’m no longer trying to fight his body holding me down, his hand cupped across my mouth, his long knife rising above me, immovably set on its course. It’s not until a bullet punches the blade out of Carlito's fist that reality begins to outweigh any feelings I once believed to be fact.
Vince is standing on the staircase, looking at me with the saddest eyes, but when he turns to Carlito, the shift is immediate. He doesn’t need a weapon to kill. His piercing green eyes filled with the fury of a thousand knives are shooting through Carlito as he laughs hysterically. He tilts his head away from Carlito, and to the goons he’s beginning to recognize. The realization sets— it’s not just Carlito who’s gone rogue; it's some of his most trusted men who now stand willingly by his side. I think that’s what really pushes Vince over the edge.
I focus on my stomach as they begin to argue back and forth. It’s not until Carlito is aiming a gun at me that I reconnect with what is happening. The same sickening fear sinks in, and I can’t move a muscle without feeling that doing so will cause Carlito to pull the trigger. Just as Vince is about to agree to something I can’t figure out, Barnes alerts the group that the cops are coming.
It’s as if we were paused this entire time and someone has hit the play button. Vince is diving for me, throwing knives from his pockets and perfectly hitting every person with frightening accuracy aside from Carlito. When he scoops me up in his arms, that’s it. Somehow I feel safe, though I know we’re still very far from it. We’re galloping down the stairs as Carlito screams his head off. I would have thought he was the one who got hit by the noises he was making.
His name makes me want to vomit, though it could be the bouncing down several flights of stairs that’s doing me in. I need to feel in control again so I don’t slow us down even more. I begin to rock back and forth when we reach ground level. Instead of just dropping me, Vince stops, looking me all over as if I haven’t been clear.
“Are you okay?” His eyes are brimming with fear, and I realize he must think I was shot or injured. I have to look away so that everything inside me doesn’t just pull him tighter and ask him to never let go.
“Yes, I can run.” That is all I manage to say, and he puts me down as if I’ll break into a million pieces with even the slightest bit of force.
I feel like reminding him that I’m quite tough on my own, but now seems hardly appropriate, considering we’re still being pursued. We run faster than I thought was possible. I’m breaking inside, knowing that even though I’m running for my life… the life that I’ll be living won’t be with Vince. I'm trying desperately not to think this way. Tell my brain I’ll be safer with the baby away from Carlito, away from the Russian mafia or the pressures of the San Giovanni clan.
Maybe if I wasn’t so distracted, the sound of Carlito’s feet would have alarmed me a minute ago, but I can hear him catching up, see Vince reaching for me before hearing it too. His hand pulls away, and he’s grabbing something.
When I hear the click of his gun, I’m comforted, knowing what he’s about to do. It sounds awful, but if he’s going to shoot anyone, I would want it to be the person who almost killed our baby. Our baby. I never thought those words would sound so dismal together.
I allow myself to turn my head. Just to see how close he’s gained on us, but as I do, I hear the fire of his gun and feel the bullet breeze past me like a car speeding past on a highway. I barely have time to react to the blood hitting my clothes and the sound of Vincenzo’s body dropping to the gravel. I twist around to him and sprint even faster than before, sliding to my knees as blood gushes from the back of his head where the bullet has taken its claim.
The sound that erupts from me is purely instinctual, tearing my vocal cords apart and rendering me useless. It’s by some divine intervention that my hands find the gun he was about to shoot. I pick it up with shaky hands and blurry eyes, raising it to Carlito as he laughs and saunters away.
Without hesitation, I pull the trigger, and it hits him in the head, causing him to drop instantly. Vengeance doesn’t wean my pain or soothe my aching body. I turn Vince over, devastated by his vacant eyes that are partly open. Those beautiful green eyes wasted on the likes of me. How could he risk coming here by himself? I know I’m weeping, but everything is so fucked that even sobbing sounds like sirens.
Though the cops arrive moments later, it feels like a lifetime has passed. And in a way, I guess it has. My Vincenzo is dead and gone, and I don’t know what I’ll ever be able to do to feel whole again. Someone pries me off him as the paramedics rush in, but I’m kicking and screaming for them to let me go. Their arms hold me tighter, hugging me with a comfort that can only come from really caring for someone, so I sink into it. Let my legs and arms go limp, allow my head to drop as I gulp breaths of cold air between sobs.
“Hey.” Jack's voice is usually the most annoying thing about my day, but right now, it’s like the sun after endless rain.
“Please let me go with him.” I look over as the medics lift him on a stretcher to the ambulance and close the doors behind them.
“They aren’t going to let you, Jess.” His voice is soothing, but his words are not. I begin to fight him again with whatever strength I have left, though it’s not very much.
“Sir, this is a crime scene now. You’re going to have to move out.” A cop's voice causes me to pause.
“I’m with the FBI, and I’ll need your car.” Jack fiddles with something, and I think it’s his wallet. The cop is silent for a few seconds, probably studying his badge.
“Okay.” He finally agrees, and Jack helps me into the front seat, buckling me in as I slump against it unhelpfully.
When his car door shuts and we back out, I see the lights beginning to flash again through my eyelids, and then we speed down the backroads even faster than I had when arriving.
“I won’t lose them.” Jack grunts, probably to himself because at this point, I’m a shell of a human and incapable of functioning normally.
“It’s a good sign, Jess.” I furrow my brows as he flicks on the siren.
“A good sign if they’re taking him to the hospital with this much urgency.” I shake my head because I can’t let myself get hopeful. It’s too painful, and I have enough pain to last a lifetime.
Tears are continuing to stream from my eyes that are barely blinking open as we're making sharp turns and quick maneuvers around cars taking too long to pull over to the right side of the road. I don’t know when we will arrive at the hospital, but it takes us well over an hour. My concept of time has become so confused that I forgot it was night. I open my eyes when we come to a complete stop and see we’re in the drop-off lane.
“Ready?” Jack grabs my attention, and I turn to see his worried face. All I do is nod, and he jumps out, helping me down to the ground, and we move inside. I feel like I’m on the conveyor belt in an airport— passing everyone walking at a normal pace. And even though I feel like I’m moving the same way, I’m gliding past them. The only reasonable conclusion is that I’m running.
We reach the counter, and Jack flashes the startled receptionist his badge. She must know we’re coming because she answers immediately.
“He’s in surgery. We can’t let—" she begins, but Jack finishes, “We need to be as close as we can get to him.” She looks at me, then to the blood on my clothes, and back at him, narrowing her gray eyes in consideration.
“Watch the desk.” She whispers to the lady next to her and motions us to follow.