Page 149 of Hidden Waters

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Paul shoved me to the floor. I hit the tile with a force that jarred my spine, and my phone tumbled to the bathmat.

Randy snatched it up, glaring at the screen. His finger punched the end icon. “Stupid bitch was on with 9-1-1. You tell the cops who was here?”

“N-no.”

“Fuckin’ liar.” Randy slapped me so hard my head snapped back, and I tasted blood.

Footsteps sounded in the entryway. I prayed for the officers to hurry.

Paul stomped on my phone, the screen making a crunching sound. The only thing I could see was the now-fractured image of me and Holt, shattered into a million tiny pieces. “We gotta get out of here. The cops will be on the way.”

Randy’s eyes flashed. “No. I’m having my fun with her first.”

A siren sounded in the distance. More help.

Hurry.

I chanted the word over and over in my mind as if the two syllables could save me.

“We gotta go now,” Paul snapped.

“Then help me get her ass in the car. I’m taking my time with this one.”

My stomach roiled as the metallic taste in my mouth intensified.

Paul raised his gun. I couldn’t look away from the muzzle pointed straight at me. Memories flashed within the darkness of the barrel. Laughing as I sailed through the air after Holt threw me into the lake. The buzz beneath my skin the first time his lips touched mine. Holt holding me tightly as I let the tears flow when my parents had forgotten my birthday. Again. Planning that big, beautiful future that would be ours.

All my best moments had been with Holt. But I hadn’t had nearly enough.

I opened my mouth to scream. To beg. I wasn’t even sure which.

But I didn’t get the chance.

I heard a pop, like the sound of a single firecracker slicing through the air.

Heat bloomed in my chest. Then fire. And I was sliding down.

The tile was so cold, frigid compared to the inferno blazing in my torso. I wanted to sink into that coldness to escape the heat. But most of all, I wanted Holt.

“What the fuck?” Randy bellowed.

“She’s not worth getting arrested over, man. We gotta run!”

The ceiling above me melted into a cascade of colors, the pastels swirling together until it almost looked like my favorite time of day. Twilight. How many times had I made Holt sit with me past the sunset so that I could watch nighttime take hold? So the sky could soothe my soul.

I almost felt Holt’s lips pressed to my temple. “I’ll wa

tch every twilight with you. Every moonrise, too.”

Footsteps pounded on the stairs. “Where the hell is Holt? We need them both.”

I tried to get my brain to place that voice. But I couldn’t quite… “Don’t worry, Cricket. I’ll scare the ghosts away.”

The twilight ceiling darkened, and the only thing I could think then was that I was glad Holt was late.

But I would’ve given anything to feel his arms around me one more time.

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Tags: Catherine Cowles Tattered & Torn Romance