Landmine - Post Malone

45

She opens her mouth to tell Luke to go fuck himself, but something flashes in her vision; it's so fast she is not sure what it is; it's just a blur. It comes at such a force that it knocks her over without touching her, sending her rolling and knocking the wind out of her. Luke has disappeared and she lies stunned, now on her back as she looks up at the blue sky. It takes her a second, and then she lets her head roll to the side; everything hurts again, and her side feels like it's on fire where the knife is still lodged just below her ribs.

Luke is now a few meters away from her and Austin is sitting on top of him with his fists slamming repeatedly into Lukes face. She can hear bones crushing with every infuriated blow. He will kill him, she can see it on his face. That force that had knocked her down had been Austin flying into Luke and she knows there is no stopping him now. Her chest burns as she tries to call out to him. She hates Luke, but she doesn't want him to die; she doesn't want anyone to die, and she doesn't want Austin to carry that either. "Austin, baby, stop," she croaks out. But, Austin doesn't hear her as his rage controls his fists - she has never seen Austin so angry and doubts she ever will again.

She hears Isla screaming at Austin to stop too then she hears the distinct sound of a shotgun being cocked and so with her heart in her throat she turns her head and sees Isla walking up behind Austin with a shotgun aimed straight at his head. "Isla. No...please," she whispers, fear coursing through her body and making it shake. Isla ignores her and continues walking toward Austin who has not stopped slamming his fists into a now limp Luke. He is so focused on Luke that his usual attentiveness has been lost and he has not noticed Isla coming up behind him.

With all the strength Dillon has left, she flips herself onto her stomach, whimpering from the searing hot pain in her side. She needs to do something. She needs to stop Isla and keep Austin safe. Desperately, she looks around for something, anything, then her eyes land on Luke's shotgun that is lying discarded in the grass. So, with her jaw clenched and ignoring the pain, she crawls over to it, grabs it, and forces her muscles to work harder than they have ever worked before as she pulls herself up and then points the shotgun at Isla. She is unsteady on her feet and so weak that she sways, but she keeps her aim on Isla. "Please, Isla...I love you...I don't want to do this," she chokes out.

Her tears make it hard for her to see and she squeezes eyes shut to get rid of them. When she opens her eyes again she sees Isla has stopped and positioned herself, ready to fire. Dillon knows she only has seconds to make a decision.

Isla or Austin.

Austin.

Without hesitation, she shoots, just like Austin had taught her. Strait and steady. Her heart explodes at the same time as Isla drops to the ground in a crumpled mass. She can't move with the shotgun still aimed in Isla's direction, frozen in disbelief. She just killed her sister; it's not something she ever thought she would need to do and she desperately wants all this to be a nightmare that she will soon wake up from. Please let this be a nightmare.

Austin is suddenly in her vision, his face full of concern. He takes the shotgun from her hands and throws it off to the side then cups her face gently. "I killed her," she squeaks as her body starts to fail her, her knees going weak, but Austin has her. He holds her up and close to his body, it's where she is safe. "She wouldn't stop...she wouldn't stop," she cries, starting to fall apart; she can now that Austin is here. "I need to get you to a hospital, baby," he whispers trying to hold her up and assess her injuries as gently as he can. But, then her body goes ridged and she stops breathing when she feels a warm sensation between her legs.

She pushes away from him and looks down between her legs, then back at Austin, who now has a horrified face. She is having a miscarriage, she didn't even know she was pregnant. "Oh...Austin..." she breathes out; she knows she looks petrified; she feels petrified. He inspects the knife still in her side then takes off his jacket and wraps it around her quickly. "I gotta get ya to a hospital, baby," he says, lifting her gently, careful not to bump the knife or jostle her too much as he rushes to his truck.