Page 84 of Aperture

Johnny sets the phone and the knife down on the chair that I vacated and starts slowly clapping. “This has been very entertaining, but it sounds like Theo here is ready to meet his maker. Just say the word, Millie.”

“I refuse to do this,” I screech.

“Theo, forgive me,” Wyatt yells from the other corner, interrupting us. “Forgive me for everything.”

Theo smiles through his beaten and bloody face. “All is forgiven, Brother,” he says softly.

Johnny comes up behind me, knife in hand, and yanks me backward, holding the knife to my throat.

“I’m tired of this shit. She didn’t choose. Now you both get to watch her die,” he insists.

His tone is unwavering. I close my eyes, silently making peace with this life I’ve been given. I say a prayer that someone will take care of Milo and Gwen and that both Theo and Wyatt will come out of this somehow and be OK.

Suddenly, Wyatt jumps to his feet, hands still tied behind his back, and runs at Johnny. He rams straight into him in a tackle, without the use of his arms. Johnny drops the knife and falls to the ground. He and Wyatt roll around before scrambling to their feet, and then Johnny ends up landing a hard punch to Wyatt’s cheek, momentarily throwing him off balance and causing him to fall against the wall. Johnny quickly grabs the gun and turns, firing a shot.

I close my eyes tightly and brace myself for the pain that never seems to come. Peeking my eyes open, I see that Theo had somehow gotten up and jumped in front of me, taking the bullet. His body is flung backward into me from the force of the impact before he drops to the ground in front of me.

A sob rips out of my chest at the sight of him on the dirty concrete. Before I can think about what I’m doing, I race to where the knife was dropped and snatch it up off the ground, then I lunge toward Johnny. He doesn’t make a move to escape or attack me. It’s as if he knew it would come to this, and maybe he did. Maybe this is what he wanted. Everything moves in slow motion as I grip the knife by the handle and plunge it into the left side of his chest, just near the armpit like Wyatt taught me. I must hit his axillary artery, because the blood starts spurting out in a steady stream as Johnny groans and doubles over. His instinct is to cover up the wound, but then he simply collapses on the floor and lays on his side, curling up in the fetal position in a lake of his own blood.

I drop the knife as both my hands fly to my face and I scream in a guttural voice I’ve never heard before. I feel myself outside of my body. It’s like I’m floating above the scene, watching it happen to someone else. When I hear Theo whispering something with his last breaths, I’m pulled back into reality and race over to him, dropping to my knees beside him. I let my senses hone in on what he is saying. I can’t hear anything but his voice. I only see him.

“I love you,” he whispers. “Wyatt will take care of you now.” And then all of the tension leaves his body and he goes completely lax. His face is set, eyes open and fixed, void of any life. Those eyes that used to make me feel so warm and safe are dead now.

I cry silently, hugging my body as I rock back and forth next to him.

I look over at Johnny, his dead, lifeless body in a pool of his own blood. My skin breaks out in gooseflesh and I’m shaking. I’m brought back to all of those times when I felt someone watching me, felt someone was there, waiting for me. I sensed the proximity of his evil, even when I didn't realize it. I notice his phone and reach for it, throwing it against the wall with a painful cry, destroying all evidence of the diabolic events from today.

“Millie,” Wyatt rasps.

“Wyatt!” I answer and run over to where he is collapsed against the wall.

I kneel in front of him and reach out, gently placing my hand on his swollen cheek. His eyes focus on me and the confusion starts to clear. Relief spreads across his face when he sees that I’m OK. Then he looks over and sees Johnny dead and his shoulders relax. But as soon as his gaze lands on Theo’s lifeless form, he begins to silently weep.

“Wyatt, I’m here,” I say gently as I kiss his forehead and then his cheek. I kiss every inch of his face and hold him close.

“Are you alright?” he says faintly.

“I’m OK. We are going to be OK,” I say as I hold him, but don’t know if I believe my own words. We sit amidst the blood and the smell of gunpowder, rocking back and forth, holding on to one another for dear life. In the distance, the wailing of sirens is getting louder.

Epilogue

8 Months Later

“You’re doing so good, Millipede!” I say as I grip my girlfriend’s hand. “That’s it. Breathe .”

Millie has been in something called “active labor” for almost four hours. She’s exhausted, drenched with sweat, and short-tempered. She is also the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Her face is red and there are tears in her eyes, but she’s handling labor with the same grace as she handled her surprise pregnancy.

Gwen appears out of nowhere and smooths the sweat-soaked hair from her forehead with a cold, wet washcloth.

“Breathe, Mouse!” she says. “Remember your breathing.”

The doctor pops up from between her legs and makes an announcement.

“You're at ten centimeters, Millie. It’s time to push.”

“You’re doing it, Baby,” I tell her. “Push. And don’t forget to breathe.”

“Stop telling me to breathe! I’m breathing,” she snaps.