GHOST OF YOU | BWS

twenty-four.

My vision is blurry and red from the blood covering my face, my ears buzzing from the repetitive punches, and it takes me a moment to understand what is going on. The guys in front of me pull guns from the waistband of their jeans and start shooting towards the back of the room behind me while they back away to find cover. Around me, it's chaos. People are shouting in Spanish, shots are fired, barely missing me. I am surprised I haven't yet been shot sitting in the middle of the room. With a little luck a bullet will land straight in between my eyes and end all of this for me. As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I am pushed to the ground, the chair with me. The fall knocks the air out of me, not because of the height of it but because of how unexpected it was. The next thing I know my feet are free and someone is harshly cutting through the tape around my wrist while trying not to get shot. Despite my blurry vision, I recognize the familiar head of brown curls. Brad. What is he doing here? I don't have time to ask him that he drags me behind the bar once my hands are free.

"Don't move from here", he orders, barely looking at me before leaving the safety of the bar, a gun in his hands.

Shots are firing from everywhere, creating utter chaos in the restaurant. I wonder how long it'll take the cops to be here. There's no way no one heard the shooting and didn't call the cops, right?

I am sitting on the floor, my back against the wall behind the bar, barely able to sit up straight. The pain in my entire body is excruciating, and I consider giving in to the inviting blackness that calls my name. I just want the pain to stop. Maybe I can close my eyes for one second. One small second to rest a little.

I'd just closed them when I'm abruptly shaken up and forced up, a cold metal pressed onto my temple, making me shoot my eyes open. The room has suddenly fallen quiet and I realize only now that I'm faced by at least fifteen if not twenty guys, not counting the bodies on the floor. The sight of the bodies and the blood is enough to make me sick, and I struggle to keep it in. I see Isaac standing in the middle, weaponless, and notice Elly and Red Hair guy by his side. Brad is standing on my right, his gun aiming straight at the person holding me.

"You move, I shoot", I hear the person behind me say, and instantly recognize him as Joaquin.

He is standing behind me, keeping my body pressed onto his with his arm curled around my neck. He moves us around the bar slowly, the tip of his gun still pressed on the side of my head.

"And what makes you think I'd care?", Isaac answers with a mocking laugh, yet no one moves.

Joaquin seems to hesitate as we stand in the middle of the room. But the sick laugh that escaped his mouth shortly after tells me he made up his mind.

"Why would you be here if she wasn't with you", he says bluntly, sure of himself.

"I'm just here to get back what was taken from us", Isaac says. "Seeing her here all tied up and bloody is just an added bonus", he adds and I notice the tension in Brad's body.

Joaquin stands still again, probably wondering if what Isaac said is true or not and if he actually has leverage to leave the room. Unfortunately for him, he doesn't, and I wouldn't be surprised if Isaac told his guys to open fire right this instant.

I blink and Charlie is here again. but he isn't looking at me. His eyes are focused on something next to me. I follow his ghost gaze and notice the broken bottle on the table next to us. I look back up to Charlie but he's not there anymore. I feel my heart race even more in my chest. Am I going crazy?

"Oh for fuck sakes, just fucking shoot already", Isaac says and I don't have time to think about my most likely being insane that I extend my arm towards the table, grabbing the bottle and stabbing it into Joaquin's throat before anyone has time to shoot.