𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑲𝒊𝒅 & 𝑰 - A Billy the Kid western romance

Condemnation

"Venus you have to wake up"

Dakota shakes me, as I slowly come to life. I had slept in, and didn't have time to reflect upon her adoption of the nickname before I registered the sheer anguish on her face.

"Get up, please, something has happened"

A pulse of panic shatters my peace.

"Huh?" I manage to get out as I gather my thoughts and assemble my full consciousness.

"Get dressed" She orders as she hurries back out of our room.

I spring out of bed fully awake and shed my nightgown almost reflexively and then I shove my legs into a pair of trousers and throw a blue shirt over my head and images of Milo being hurt flash before my eyes and then of  Billy and my heart pounds hard beneath my ribs and I can't think properly and I feel the panic building within me vividly and-

And,

I force air down my trachea, focusing on the feeling of my lungs expanding.

The sight of Billy doesn't alleviate my worry, once I reach the hallway. His stance radiates alarm. He jerks his head in my direction to meet my eyes once he hears me. "It's the boys" he announces tensely. My ears become deaf to all surrounding noise, except for the sound of blood gushing through my veins. The blood in my head beats so hard it feels like its going to explode.

"Where are they?" I exclaim shortly.

"Returning," He begins, but struggles to continue.

"Returning?! From where?" I shriek. Had they left the premises? For what? Billy had promised not to send them on any dangerous assignments, ever. 

My eyes narrow as I watch him attempt to shove an explanation out of his lungs. Stuttering, he tries: "I didn't think anything could go wrong, I-"

"Bucky rode ahead to let us know there was a shootout, and that Milo and kit were both shot." Dakota interrupts as she quickly emerges from one of the doorways, carrying a woven basket of antiseptic liquids and cotton balls, a wide array of various metal tools, pliers and scissors and scalpels, bandages and cloths, everything one may need to attend to a person with a gunshot wound. She doesn't stop to explain further, but nods her head in her direction, and continues into another room. I follow.

I am met with the sight of Bucky sitting on a flimsy stool, teary eyed but relatively composed. He is so brave. Always has been. His eyes meet mine filled with remorse, and I shiver. Kit and Milo could impossibly have been far behind Bucky, but time felt so eternally slow, like it was struggling to tick through glue and tar.

(TW: Blood)

The relieving sound of hooves beating the ground in the rhythm of a hectic gallop then occupies my mind, and I run out to the porch. I condemn my own eyesight, for I cant make out the faces yet, but one of the two boys is sat upright, while the other is lying over his lap. He looks lifeless, and a feeling unlike any I've ever felt before shoves it's way through my body. My insides feel dark, pitch-black.

Fear devours my eyes as tears drench my cheeks. The boy lying across, bent at the hips and face down, is Milo. My Milo. I freeze in motion at the realization, and Dakota hurries past me as Tom swings the gate open to let them in. The horse is yanked to a stop, and they lower the boys off of it along with a few other men. My jaw hangs open slightly, before I come back to my senses shortly. Kit has been shot in his right leg, and winces in pain as he is carried inside by one of the men. Milo remains unresponsive. I search desperately for where the blood is gushing out from, but it's everywhere.

I sprint into the house after them, but am met by Billy's wide chest and shoulders. He stands in my way, and I panic, because he won't let me in. Sobbing violently I pound away at his chest in an attempt to get him to move but he remains rock-steady, wrapping his firm arms around me. Screaming I command him to let me through. He doesn't react. He doesn't move at all. I desperately begin to claw at him with my nails, at his chest, his biceps, his neck, any measure to make him release me, but his embrace is firm and unwavering. I hate him. 

"Shhh" He tries, as he rests one of his big, warm hands on the back of my head. He strokes my hair. He places his jaw on top of my head, gazing out toward the horizon in silence as I attempt to fight my way back into the building.

"What have you done?" I scream at the top of my lungs, but it turns into some form of shrieking sound, like that of claws against a blackboard. Silence. I begin to think he won't answer me when he whispers,

"I'm sorry"

 His words are so gentle. 

Why are they so gentle?

Why isn't he roaring in anger at what has happened?

At himself?

I continue sobbing violently into his shirt, bringing my hands up to cover my face, to shield me from all the evils of the world. My body gives in to his grasp. After a little while my mind gives in, too. Everything proves too much, and the world fades to a thick, suffocating, black. I dissolve into his arms. 

I faint.

Author's note: Boom two chapters in a day, who would've thought?

Writer's block? Who is she??😎