On The Other Side

Chapter 37 - A Glimpse Of Hope

GEORGE
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"Help!" I scream, trying to get anyone's attention.

The guy slaps his hand over my mouth and shoves me against the wall. "I suggest you shut your mouth and sit back down."

I stomp on his foot, knowing I'm just making things worse for myself. But I'm tired of always being the victim.

His hands meet my shoulders and he shoves me against the wall so hard my head slams against it. I wince and try to pull a hand up to my head, but he grabs my wrists and shoves them at my sides.

"You're a feisty little thing," he says, smiling like that's something that's supposed to turn him on.

"Help!" I scream again.

This time he shakes his head and says, "Don't know how to keep your mouth shut, do you?" he presses his lips against mine and I fucking hate him.

My eyes are wide open as I try to keep my lips pressed together against the force of his tongue. I'm looking over the guy's shoulder, struggling to free myself from him, when the bathroom door swings open.

It's Pablo.

His eyes scan the bathroom and then land on us. He scans the guy trying to penetrate my mouth with his tongue. There's a hand now working its way up my shirt.

Pablo doesn't even take two seconds to process what he's seeing. His eyes turn heated with rage. "I gave you one fucking job, asshole!" he yells, striding towards us.

Just when the guy releases me and begins to spin around, Pablo lifts his gun and presses it to the top of the guy's head. "One fucking job!"

Ringing.

I can't hear anything over the ringing in my ears. The sting of liquid in my eyes, on my face. I cover my ears with my hands and squeeze my eyes shut.

No, that did not just happen.

No, no, no.

I hear the guy fall to the floor and I have to step aside to get my left foot out under from him. "No, no, no, no," I repeat, my hands still over my ears, my eyes still shut.

Pablo grabs my hand and yanks me forward as I trip over the guy on the floor. He doesn't let go of my arm as he drags me to my feet and towards the door.

My eyes are still closed. I think I might be screaming because my throat is stinging, but I can't tell if that's me or the ringing in my ears.

I'm suddenly lifted up into the air and thrown over his shoulder. He carries me down the hall as the last ten seconds replay over again in my head.

This is not happening.

Seconds later, he lays me down on a bed. I'm still too scared to open my eyes. Several moments pass and I can feel my chest pulling for air.

I gasp between tears as Pablo's voice comes at me from inches above me. "Look at me!"

I slowly open my eyes and look up at him. He's kneeling over me on the bed, touching my face, smoothing back my hair. There are specks of blood on his face and across his neck.

I look into his eyes and his pupils have overtaken everything. Two huge black irises stare back down at me, and it sends a shiver over my already trembling body.

"Georgie," he whispers, still smoothing his hand over my hair. I try to look around the room, but he grabs my jaw and forces my eyes back to his.

He slips his hand under my back and pushes me up until I'm sitting on the bed.

I'm suddenly face-to-face with my worst nightmare.

Clay is sitting at a desk chair, his hands cuffed behind his back. The agony on his face speaks volumes of his fear.

I start crying and shaking my head.

This can't be how our story ends.

Pablo lifts his gun and strides toward him, just like he did in the second before he shot the guy upstairs.

I immediately jump up, grab his arm, and scream "No! Please, no!"

Pablo doesn't shoot him. Instead, the hand that's holding his gun swings around and hits me so hard, I fly back onto the bed. The side of my head instantly begins to throb.

Pablo is focused on me, his anger flaring. He's on top of me now, gripping my wrists, and pressing his forehead to the side of my head. He takes a deep breath and then pulls back. I turn my head to the side and squeeze my eyes shut.

This is it.

This is how I'm going to die.

Pablo buries his head in the crevice of my neck and shoulder and mutters "I can't remember if I locked the door."

When he crawls off me, I try to process what he just said, but it was so random and my pulse is racing too fast to process thoughts, I don't even know what to think.

As he's walking toward the door, I turn my head to find Clay. His hands are cuffed behind his back around the desk chair.

But he quickly stands, slipping his arms up and over the back of the chair, and then he sits down again, this time with his hands directly behind his back without the barrier of the chair.

It all happens so fast, it takes me a second to realize that he's not even cuffed to the chair.

Pablo must not realize this or he'd never turn his back to him.

My eyes flick to the door and Pablo's locking it. My eyes flick back to Clay and he's shaking his head, warning me to stay calm.

Pablo rests his back against the bedroom door. He places his gun flat against his cheek and looks straight at Clay.

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