Trace

Chapter 37

My body repels as he releases a piercing scream of agony. I drop the gun to the wooden floor, immediately regretting my unwise decision. I begin to shake as my body floods over with guilt.

I have done something horribly wrong.

He squeezes his wounded hand and holds it tight to his chest, rocking back and forth like an aching child. My face pales when he glares at me, his eyes demon red with fury.

"H-Harry-" my voice squeaks out.

I have no clue what to do to help him, but I do know that he is going to need help- fast.

"You need to go to the hospital," I weakly say, my face paling at the sight of his blood.

"No shit," he curses through gritted jaws.

He stands on his lean legs and wobbles himself up straight, his hand still against his heart. He looks at the moaning Toby on the floor, then to the gun on the floor.

"No," I say sternly.

Harry pierces his gaze onto me. I bend down to pick up the gun, cautious as to not turn my back to the dangerous boy.

"Let's go," I demand.

He follows me out of the bedroom door and curses aloud as he tramps down the stairs.

I haven't the faintest idea of the time as we step outside. The air is cold and the sky is still dark, but not as dark as it was earlier.

We get into the car and I start it quickly, in fear that maybe someone heard the gunshot and phoned the police. I look behind us before pulling away and steal a glance at Harry.

Tears are rolling down his reddened cheeks.

"Harry, I'm so, so sorry. I didn't know what to do because you-"

"I'm not crying because of my hand, if that's what you mean," he scoffs.

"Does it hurt?" I ask, and wish it back the second it leaves my tongue.

He looks at me from the side and rolls his eyes.

"Nevermind," I mumble.

Of course it hurts, you idiot!

"El is going to hate me, now."

El?

"Huh?"

Harry shudders as more tears slide down his feverish face.

"You know what I mean!"

Harry shouts and bangs his fist against the front panel and screams the instant he made his fatal mistake.

I try to block out Harry's agonising cries of pain, but I can't. As I drive over the bridge, I clumsily pull the car over and run out with the gun. This is far too much for me to bear.

I look at the black weapon, it's gleaming coat teasing me, torturing me. Then I look to the suffering Harry inside of the black car. Whimpering, crying, shouting, rocking his large body with his hand bound tight to his heaving chest.

I don't take a second look at the dark, murderous object in my hand before throwing it high over the side of the bridge. I rush back to the car before hearing it splash down below.

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"A game?" the doctor raises her eyebrows at me.

I nod slowly, and gulp. I hate lying to her, but I know it's for our own good.

"It was stupid. We were outside, using his hunting gun in the dark. We saw a crow perched on a low branch and we were seeing who would be the first shot. I didn't see Harry reach for it before I pulled the trigger and. . ." I trail off.