Page 99 of Inseparable
At that second, Ange pushes the douche, beating her fists against his chest as she screams obscenities at him. I watch in horror as he raises his hand, slapping her across the face. My feet move, and I’m racing toward her as she falls on the asphalt, clutching her cheek. “Call the station,” I shout over my shoulder at Nate.
The asshole lifts his booted foot and kicks her in the ribs. She cries out, instinctively curling into a ball and trying to shield her body as he continues to kick her. I lunge at him, knocking us both to the ground. Grabbing the collar of my shirt, he pulls my face close and head butts me. Blinding pain explodes in my skull, and warm blood starts pumping out of my nose. “Fuck.” I’m scrambling to my feet, dizzy and swaying, when he yanks me back down. My head slams off the hard ground, and stars blur my vision. Pain ricochets through my body, and I groan. A dense weight presses down on me, and then the guy is swinging, raining blows on my face and my chest. He’s strong, and his aim isn’t bad, but he’s still inebriated, and he lacks the skill and training I have. Ange is screaming and crying in the background, begging him to stop. I blink until my vision clears, attempting to buck him off me. When that doesn’t work, I lob a blow at his neck, striking him precisely at the point of his carotid artery. It’s a move I’ve perfected over the years, and it never fails me.
His eyes roll back in his head, and his body goes limp as he slumps to the side. I sit up and something sharp pierces my back, sending an intense burst of stabbing pain shooting through me. Ange screams. I roar, shoving the guy off me, as I reach around, probing the sore spot on my upper back, my fingers coming away bloody.
What the fuck just happened?
I turn, lightheaded, and plummet to the ground, moaning. The pain in my back intensifies, but I push myself up off my hands, staggering to my feet.
“Oh my God, Dev,” Ange shrieks, landing in front of me in her bare feet. Tears are pumping out of her eyes. “Are you okay?” I sway, almost blacking out as I feel blood gushing out of the wound in my back. I reach out, holding on to her, vaguely hearing the sirens in the distance.
A strong arm winds around my back, and Nate is there, helping to prop me up. “I called an ambulance. It’s on its way.”
Ange drops to her knees crying. She looks up at me, and my heart breaks. “I’m so sorry,” she slurs, in between sobs. “I thought he was going to kill you and I didn’t think.” Big, fat tears roll down her face. “I threw my shoe at him, and I don’t know what happened. It wasn’t supposed to hit you!” she sobs. “It was meant for him.” She lashes out at the unconscious guy lying on the ground, pummeling his stomach with her tiny fists.
“Fuck.” I suck in a breath as my vision blurs in and out.
“You’re losing some blood, but I don’t think it’s serious,” Nate supplies, peering at my back. “I’m no expert, but if I had to hazard a guess, I’d say the stiletto missed penetrating any vital organs.”
Ange rocks on the ground, wailing and crying, and I hate that I can’t go to her. “Help her,” I tell Nate, as the sirens grow closer. “It’s okay, baby,” I croon, as Nate leans me against the nearest car before going to Ange. He lifts her up in his arms. She’s crying so much, I don’t think she’s even realized. He brings her over beside me, placing her on top of the hood. I reach out, touching her hand. “Don’t cry, baby. It’s going to be okay.”
She sniffles, fixing forlorn eyes on me. “No, it’s not. I’m not okay.”
“I know, baby, but you will be. You will be.”
CHAPTER FORTY
Angelina
They take Devin and Scott away in separate ambulances, and I’m arrested. I can’t stop crying. I thought Scott was going to kill Devin, and all I could think was he was going to die believing I hated him. Cara is right. All I’m doing is making more bad choices. And I’m so tired. Of all of it. Of thinking. Of hurting. Of life.
After they booked me, they put me in this cell to sober up. I’m lying on the floor, with only a thin blanket covering me, shivering, nauseated, and terrified that I’ve just killed my other best friend. Tears leak out of my eyes, and I think I may have permanently broken my tear ducts.
“Stop your fucking sniveling, woman,” the hooker with the mad eyes and the frizzy red hair says for the umpteenth time. Just my luck to be locked up with a crazy bitch.
“Screw off,” I mumble, in between sobs.
I barely even flinch when she yanks me up by the hair, ramming her fist in my face. Blood spurts from my nose, but I still don’t stop crying. That only incenses her further. She rains blows on my face as I wonder where the fucking officer in charge is.
My head spins back as she hits me, darts of pain crashing around my face.
I’m crying harder now, and a wall of shame descends upon me.
How did my life cometo this?
How have I endedup here?
Why did my life go so off track?
Pain lances me on all sides, but the pain in my heart is the worst pain of all. And it’s all my own doing.
I just want it to end.
To not think. Not feel. Not hurt anymore.
Mom would be bitterly disappointed in me. I’m glad she’s not here to witness my lowest moment.
The crazy bitch yells at me to stop crying, and I cry louder. When she slams my face down on the bench, stars explode behind my eyes and rattling pain bursts through my skull. The last thought I have before I pass out is that I hope I don’t ever wake up.
