Page 207 of I’m The Worst

Another crash.

The hinges scream⁠—

The door explodes inward, and wood splinters across the entryway. A bolt of lightning floods the room, illuminating his tall figure standing in the doorway.

I pull the trigger.

The gun bucks in my hands.

Wolff jerks with a shout, grabbing his arm as blood sprays across the wall beside him.

“Fucking Christ, AJ!”

I fire again.

The bullet punches through drywall, filling the room with plaster dust.

“Get the fuck out of my house!” I scream, the sound guttural.

Another shot.

Glass explodes as the lamp beside the couch shatters.

“AJ! Stop shooting!” he shouts back.

I stumble backward, nearly tripping over the train of the dress as the cloud of plaster dust slowly settles between us.

He grunts low, then steps through the dust. One hand is clamped hard over his upper arm, blood forcing its way between his fingers before dripping steadily onto my hardwood floor. His breathing is heavy, but his eyes lock onto me with a terrifying kind of focus.

My hands shake harder as I lift the gun again, both hands wrapped around it now because I can’t keep it steady with one.

“Stop. Wolff.”

He takes another slow step.

Then another.

“No…” Everything inside me caves in. “No, no…” The gun slips away from him, toward me. The cold barrel presses against my temple.

His entire body freezes, eyes widening with a concern I’ve never seen from him. “Don’t.”

Rain pours through the broken doorway, pooling across the hardwood. Blood slips through his fingers where he’s clamped a hand over the bullet wound, splattering the floor with every step he takes.

My breathing won’t slow.

Every inhale catches halfway down, breaking apart into ragged sobs that burn my throat.

“AJ…”

I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing the barrel harder against my temple until it hurts. “I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.”

“Don’t. Don’t you fucking dare.” His voice rises.

“I’m so tired, Wolff.”

“I know.”

“No…” My knees threaten to give out beneath me. “You don’t.”