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Michael put a hand on top of mine to stop me.
“If only I knew what was going on, I would have done everything I could to stop it.”
“I know.” I believed him. Gaetano was the piece of shit who deserved to rot. Not Michael.
“I don’t deserve it. Save yourselves.” He tried to stop.
“Yeah, no.” I smacked away his hand and bandaged his leg. He clenched his jaw when I bound it around his leg, making sure there was enough pressure. “I kind of have a reputation of caring more about others than myself.” I smiled and gave his hand a small squeeze.
“Can you help me loosen up the vest? I can hardly breathe and it’s pressing against my ribs.”
I quickly fixed it and he let out a small breath of relief.
I suddenly froze in place, and Michael’s expression mirrored my own. Everything was silent. Michael tried to rise, but I placed a finger on my lips to have him stay quiet.
With trembling arms, I crawled quietly to assess the situation. Every fiber of my being prayed that Cara was unharmed.
Swallowing hard, I sat with my back pressed against the machine and slowly peeked out. A gasp escaped me at the sight, followed by the sharp crack of a gunshot. In a panicked reaction, I jerked back, landing on my side in an attempt to take cover. But it was too late; a cry of pain erupted as I clutched my bloodied arm.
“Thaia!” Michael reached out to me.
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” I clenched my jaw in pain.
I looked down at my arm, removing my shaking hand to see so much blood gushing out. It was burning in pain and the skin was open, but no bullet was stuck.
“I - Fuck! He has Cara!” I gritted out.
Michael, with newfound strength, rose to his feet, gun at the ready. Before he could pull the trigger, he was sent flying backward onto his back.
“Michael!” I screamed, rushing to him, and quickly felt relieved when I saw he would be okay. If he weren’t wearing a vest, he would have a bullet in his chest now.
Carlos’ laugh boomed out.
“There is that scream. I’ve wanted to hear it ever since I saw the video of you screaming after your mommy.” He taunted.
I stopped breathing.
“I watched it all, you know. How everything happened. I made them wear a body camera to record you so I wouldn’t miss out. The way you cried and screamed after your mommy made me horny.”
I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, my breath hitching with each laugh that escaped his lips. My eyes burned with unshed tears. They videotaped my mother’s death as if it was some kind of sick entertainment?
“Your reaction was praiseworthy. Screaming, crying, and shouting before going numb. That shit went straight to my cock. It had me almost jerking off to it.”
“You’re sick… You’re fucking sick!” I screamed, but it only humored him some more.
“It’s a shame they didn’t get to you. I wanted them to cut you open. To cut out that disgusting thing that was growing in your belly.”
It felt like time had stopped, and everything stopped moving. I wasn’t even breathing anymore as everything shut down within me.
The pain, the anger, the sadness, the shame I felt when my baby was ripped away from me. I was left only with a picture—a painful memory; a constant reminder of how powerless and shattered I was when I couldn’t protect my own baby.
“Disgusting?” My voice trembled.
Trembled with anger.
“Did you just call my baby disgusting?” I didn’t know what was happening to me as I let out a laugh.
Humorless, dark, and cold.
