Page 107 of Ricochet
A small movement of her chest gave me hope, and I stopped chest compressions, hoping she could hear me.
“Ava.” I shook her body. “Can you hear me? Everything is fine, Ava. Everything is fine. You just keep resting your eyes, okay? I will help you.”
Sobs rocked my body but I didn’t have time to stop. No, no, no, there was no time. She had to live, she just had to.
I eyed the handle of the knife again, and before I could talk myself out of it, I pulled it out. The blood gushed out in rivulets, adding to the already expanding pool around us. I pressed harder, trying to close it with my hands, but it still spilled over my fingers.
No, it couldn’t spill over. It had to stop, just stop.
“Ophelia? Oh my God.”
I was so focused on Ava, that I didn’t hear the approaching footsteps, and when I turned around, a pale Tristan stood at the doorway, his eyes flickering from me to his sister.
“What have you done?”
What have I done? I tried to save her. Oh God, I hope we still had time.
“What have you done, Ophelia?”
Why did he sound so angry? He should be helping me. He should call an ambulance. I couldn’t keep pressing on this wound forever. But she was alive, I felt her heartbeat. It was there, she would survive this.
“Tristan, can—”
“What the fuck did you do?” He strode to us, and in a second yanked me away from her, the knife I was holding clattering to the ground. Another pair of hands pulled me up, and a fury I had never seen in Cillian’s eyes met mine before he slammed me against the wall.
Tristan started talking to Ava, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying. What was happening? Why aren’t they calling an ambulance?
My eyes closed down from the pain, as Cillian slammed my head on the wall, holding an elbow to my throat. Small, black dots started dancing around his head when I opened my eyes, and I couldn’t understand the look in his.
There was so much rage. I had never seen him this way. Why was he pinning me to the wall? I just wanted to help. I needed to help her.
I struggled against his hold, but the pressure he had on me just increased, a vicious expression taking hold of his usually calm face. Was he... Was he mad at me? I wanted to tell him I tried to save her. I wanted to tell him there was still a pulse, but I couldn’t talk as he started cutting off my intake of breath.
“Kill... Cillian,” I muttered, but the thunderous expression only increased with every attempt I made. What was his problem?
“What the fuck happened here?”
Theo. He would help her, that’s why he was here. Everything will be okay.
His gazed slammed to me, and if I wasn’t so drained, I could’ve sworn I’d seen a satisfactory smirk taking over before he masked it again, feigning concern. No, he wouldn’t. Not Theo.
“How could you, Ophelia?” Cillian snarled. “She was your best friend. She would’ve done anything for you.”
How could I what? I was starting to lose my footing, and if it wasn’t for Kill holding me up, I would’ve ended up on the floor. Why was he holding me up like this?
“How could you kill her?” There were unshed tears in his eyes, and it took me a second to grasp what he just said. They thought I killed her.
No, no, no....
I started thrashing against his hold, grabbing his hands, trying to push him away from me. I needed to explain. It wasn’t me. How could they think I would be able to do such a thing?
“No, no,” I tried talking, but the fist that connected with my cheek sent my head flying to the other side, the throbbing increasing.
“Shut your filthy mouth.” He grabbed my chin, squeezing painfully. “I knew you were a psychotic little bitch, Ophelia, but I guess I never really knew the lengths you would go to satisfy your craving for blood.”
But it wasn’t me—I wanted to scream.
“Cillian—”
