The Degenerates - Under Edit

f o r t y - p a r t t w o

"Wait for the ambulance," Trey called through his teeth from below, his knees pinned into Sasha's back, "just wait."

I hadn't felt so much pain before. I thought the stab wound in my leg was up there, but this was worse.

Still, this physical pain sat at a nine, watching Trey bleed and fall limp in my arms in the warehouse that day, was a ten.

"Neijla?" Trey demanded, voice hoarse.

I didn't respond for the lack of energy was causing my vision to blur and I felt sick to my stomach.

Suddenly, there was a figure in my view. His arm extended toward me and I flinched. My forehead stung, signalling there may be a cut above my eyebrow.

I let my head fall sideways, my eyes finding the struggle ensuing below. Trey had her pinned, but she hadn't given up yet. Sasha thrashed and kicked, dirt flying up from the scarping of her shoes. The rifle sat nearby, not in reach, but with each strenuous kick under his wait, they inched closer to the gun.

"Hold her, Theo," Trey's voice shouted from below.

Trey was distracted. He was looking at me when he should have been watching her. I open my mouth to speak but no sound came out. Sasha's arm broke free from underneath her and she reached for the rifle. I felt tears spring into my eyes, or, maybe I was already crying.

Theo slid his hand behind my back pulling me forward. He had fabric in his hands – his shirt, I discovered when I found his body within inches of mine. His bare skin was pale, but warm. He had scars, long and jagged, across his torso. I lifted my good arm to touch one of them.

I screamed when a hot, searing pain erupted from my shoulder. Theo had it in one hand, and forcibly jolted the joint forward. I cried out again, toppled sideways and gripped his pale arm whilst I vomited the remnants of what was in my stomach over the porch deck.

The pain had lifted, and Theo was bounding his shirt around my now limp arm to my chest. My head throbbed however, and I thought I might have been concussed.

"Theo," I said, finding that I felt in the slightest better, "they're gone."

He stopped cold and looked over the balcony, scrambling to his feet. What I had said was what I had seen; nothing.

Trey and Sasha had disappeared and I don't know how or where they could have gone when they were right under our noses.

Theo jumped down the stairs, multiple steps at a time, and I used my good arm to press myself up, heaving my body to my feet. A wave of nausea comes and I thought I might vomit again, but it passed.

I followed Theo, blinking to clear the blur. The pain was still there, but it had lessened now to only when my shoulder moved rather than throbbing uncontrollably.

Theo disappeared under the house, and I followed blindly behind. I stumbled over something, a stick? A branch? No, I tripped over the rifle. If the rifle was here, where were they?

I heard Theo yell, and I attempt a run. Sasha and Trey are behind the back wooden pillars of the supporting frame. Sasha's back is pressed firmly into the ground, and Trey's arms are around her neck.

Theo is in his ear, panicked, but determined, telling him to let go. Trey's face is set in stone, he wasn't listening. He was strangling her, and he wasn't letting go.

Momentarily, time stopped. I'm looking at Trey now, with nothing but anger and murder in his eyes, but I remember what they could be. They can be sweet, and kind. His muscles ripple under his torn shirt, but I remember them firmly wrapped around me when I was hurt, or I was scared. His teeth are bared, but I know his smile, not his arrogant smirk when he proves me wrong, but the one where he is genuinely laughing.