Scream

Reyna Copulas

Grayson reunites with his dad and little sister; Kellin with her parents; Enzo and Desario discuss what happened in the house while the deputy gets checked out by the doctor. 

 Meanwhile, I sit on the floor of an ambulance, feet swinging over the edge. No one is here to greet me and tell me how relieved they are that I'm alive. Why? Because they're all dead.

"Your gunshot wound is pretty serious. Miraculously, it avoided everything too major," the doctor says, nodding in awe. "You're very lucky."

"Yeah," I bite. "So lucky."

"Sorry," he apologizes, sheepish at not thinking about what he says before saying it. "Is there a parent I can contact about recommended care options for you?"

"No," I answer.

"Grandparent?"

"No."

"Older sibling?"

"No."

The doctor frowns and sighs, looking down at the ground because he's uncomfortable. Makes two of us. He notices my engagement ring. "You're engaged. Have a fiancé I cantalk to?"

Disgusted, I look at the ring and twirl it around my finger. I take it off and examine it."No," I answer, putting the ring on my middle finger instead. "It's just me."

 "I'm sorry," the doctor apologizes, finishing up with putting my arm in a sling. "You don't need to go into a hospital, but you will need to take intense care of that, okay?" "I didn't plan on anything else," I bluntly say.

I watch as reporters hound Grayson. "Yeah, I killed the guy," Desk Guy cockily says, smirking. "He ran at us, a crazed look in his eyes, then – pow, pow, pow, pow, pow – I shoot the bastard. I don't mean to brag anything, but uhh..." Grayson clears his throat and poses for the cameras. "It was pretty heroic."

"Grayson, please," Kellin jokes, coming over. "We all know you were scared to death."

"Kellin, on national television?"

"Grayson, is this your girlfriend?" a woman asks, holding a microphone up to his mouth.

Gray goes red – again. "I mean...um...err..."

Kellin rolls her electric blue eyes and takes the mic. "Yes, I'm his girlfriend."

Grayson perks up. "You are? I mean..." he clears his throat again. "Psh, of course, you are. Duh."

Kellin introduces Grayson to her parents as a body sits next to me. My insides churn. I know who he is. And he knows I know. Without Enzo seeing, I reach into my back waistband and take my knife out. I slide it under my leg, ready to use it if I have to. 

"Everything I did was for you, Reyna," Enzo says, echoing what he told me when he came through my window after Aero's death. "If anything happened to you – if you died...I just couldn't imagine a future where you weren't there. I know you hate me, but Reyna, we belong together. You know it. We can work through this. It will take a long time, but we can do it."

"You murdered my best friends, Enzo," I whisper, looking him in the eye. Now that he cleaned up, I see he needed stitches where Ezio slashed him over his right eye. His nose is slightly hooked, his lip is busted, and he has a black eye. His throat has cuts, mostly from Ezio and one from me, and I'm sure he's bruised beneath his clothes. "I watched you commit every murder in the theatre." Sniffling, I swallow back emotion. "You broke my heart." 

"Reyna..." Enzo coos, voice hoarse. He too, sniffles. "Reyna I'm so sorry. I don't know how you will forgive me, but just remember what I said at the meadow. A relationship is a choice, and I promised I would choose you again and again. Even if you don't choose me, I'll still be yours. And I know this is low, but I'm desperate: you promised you'd stay with me after tonight. No matter what, you said you'd be there for me. You owe me."

"I what?" I flip out. "I owe you? You know what? You're totally right, Enzo. I do owe you." Using the knife under my leg, I whip it out and sink the blade all the way into Enzo'sside – give it a good twist. 

Hissing, Enzo flinches in pain. Rather than get away from me, he grabs the hand I stabbed him with, yearning for any sense of connection to stay viable between us. "That's for killing my friends," I growl, face feeling hot. Scooting away from him, I nod to his car, which has an abashed window from when Grayson broke in for the pistol. "Letting you go is for saving me."

Enzo pulls the knife out and holds his hands to the wound. "Reyna..."

"If I ever see you again..."

He gets off the floor and starts to back away, tears openly falling down his bruised cheeks. "Reyna, please don't..."

"I'll kill you," I tell him. "I swear to God if I ever see your face, I'll shoot it. If I ever hear you're around town, I'll hunt you down and end you. If I even think you're trying to find me, I'll call the cops and tell them what you did to my friends."

"You don't have to do this!" Enzo verbally claws for any foothold in my life. "Please!"

 "You're right: I don't, because we always have a choice. You chose to end my friends, and I'm choosing to end us. Now get the hell away from me before I call for help." 

Slowly, Enzo backs away. I don't watch him as he does so. I hear his car door open and close as he gets in. I hear the rev of the engine and the crawl of the tires on the dirt road. His car pauses as he switches gears, and I know he's looking at me for some kind of ability to keep me at his side. So I don't look at him. I stare at the ground. Once his car pulls away, I look. 

 A pang of depression invades my body and poisons my veins. But I'll get through it. If I can get through this bloodbath, then I can get through anything. 

"There's Reyna!" a reporter shouts. "Reyna," they say, out of breath from rushing over to me. With her, there's a herd of others dying for my story. "What have you taken out of this experience?" 

I take a moment and ponder the question. "Sometimes the ones closest to you..."

Maren and Enzo. "...are the ones who are really hurting you."

"And where is your family?" another man asks after snapping a picture of me.

"Dead," I state. "All of them."

The picture-snapping dies down and the microphones lower. "I'm so sorry," the first reporter apologizes.

"Sorry's are empty phrases..." If so, then I'm a giant walking sorry. "They don't mean anything unless they fix a problem. In this case: a sorry won't even touch the issue here."

"What will you do now?"

"Move on," I answer, gazing at the rising sun. "I don't know how, exactly. But that what I plan on doing." 

 "You are so brave, Reyna," the reporter compliments. "So very brave."