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Blowing out a breath of air, she nodded, then tried again.
This time, she succeeded.
I called out to her, “Baby, fight this!”
Having held Elle every chance I could since meeting her, I already knew every one of her scars—her marks of victories. I say victories because she was still standing, surviving, like a true Life Warrior. So, why wasn’t she fighting now? Why did she look as if she was totally surrendering?
When she pressed her palm to the glass between us, I knew the answer. She had the same expression on her face as I did when the cartel members were taking me from Pops.
It is how I had got shot. I couldn’t let him get hurt so I sacrificed myself for him.
“No.” I couldn’t believe I was seeing myself in the reflection of the glass.
Elle was sacrificing herself… for me.
“No!”
Her lips mouthed I love you.
Elle was an angel who had fallen in love with the Devil I thought I was.
She was willingly going… to save me.
Never had I experienced such a full-circle moment.
And now, at this pivotal moment, I realized how she’d felt this whole time.
Unworthy.
Just like me.
“Noooo!” I screamed, wanting to reach out and touch her, explain to her she was making a mistake, but traveling far too fast to let go of a handle. “Elle, no!”
She wanted to spare my life for hers.
“You are fucking worth it! Fight!”
The helicopter started to lift.
“No! Goddamnit! Nooooo! Eeeeelle! You are fucking worth it!”
There was an invisible thread… One end was connected to my chest, the other to the woman staring back down at me as I screamed for her. When the helicopter picked up speed—nothing my bike could compare to—I felt that thread stretch, go painfully taut, yet it did not sever.
Up to this crucial point in my life, I had known what it felt like to be stabbed, shot, punched… I had even held my dying mother, but I had never known agony like when I had to watch that helicopter slowly disappear into the sky. I couldn’t pull my eyes from the sight as the thread between us lengthened… but remained painfully connected.
I wailed, “Noooooo!”
Of its own accord, my hand released the throttle. My body was taking over. If it didn’t, I was going to ride my HOG until I ran out of gas and wrecked, hoping to die.
As Bertha slowed to the needed speed, my arms pulled the bike off the road. My foot kicked down the stand and my legs carried me off the bike. Then my knees gave… and I fell to the ground.
On my hands and knees, I vomited a half-scarfed bologna sandwich Elle had just made fun of. I purged and purged, my soul trying to cleanse me from the anguish in my heart.
With shaking arms and legs, I fought to get back to my feet and looked back to the sky.
She was gone.
I tilted my head back and roared, “Eeeeeeelle!” to the empty fucking sky.
