Shame (Ruin #3)(64)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

Taylor swallowed and looked down at my dad. “But we can’t have witnesses. They need to be punished, punished for hurting me, for doubting me.”

“Not having Lisa is punishment enough,” I said quickly.

My father moved to stand. “And knowing my son has bested me in intelligence is… more than a father can bear.”

“Ha!” Taylor did a circle in place. “I win. Don’t you see? Regardless, I win, I win, I win! I’m better than all of you. I’m not sick, Dad.” He spat out the name like it was a curse. “I’m healthy. I’ve died and been reborn!” He turned his gaze to Lisa. “You know I still have to punish you.”

Lisa gave him a pout. “But I always enjoyed your punishments.”

“Which is why I have to make it hurt, love. I’m so sorry. But I need to make you understand that I’m the only one for you. Not my brother, not Jack, just me.”

“Jack helped you?” I asked.

“Jack was a fool. I promised him Lisa… I promised him revenge, and then I drugged him. Guy was tripping.”

“That’s okay,” Lisa said quickly. “He was horrible to me. He tried to take me from you.”

“I know.” Taylor nodded. “I know.”

He brought the gun slowly down over his head and grimaced, shaking his head back and forth. “Now, you know… the voices are quiet. It’s because I finally finished my task, but one more thing… one more thing. Lisa, I’m sorry, but you need to hurt like I hurt.”

My breath hitched as Taylor pointed the gun at Lisa and pulled the trigger. She fell back against the couch just as the door burst open and police in SWAT gear exploded through the opening.

Shouts of “Drop the gun!” reverberated off the walls.

Taylor didn’t move.

He didn’t run. Simply watched in fascination as Lisa’s chest rose and fell slowly. Crimson blossomed on the right side of her chest, spreading in a downward pattern as it soaked into her gray T-shirt.

“Drop your gun!” shouted the cop closest to Taylor.

A tear ran down the side of Taylor’s face, and he shook his head. Before I realized what he was going to do, he pointed the gun at his temple and pulled the trigger.

Through a slow motion filter, I watched blood and brain tissue blast through the air and settle around me like ruby rain. The splatters and splotches landed everywhere, but I stopped seeing the gory horror show as I rushed to Lisa’s side and covered her wound with my hand. “Stay with me! Stay with me, Lisa! Stay with me!”

Around me, the SWAT team buzzed like bees in a hive, securing the scene, I supposed. “Clear!” one of them called out.

EMTs arrived four minutes later and shoved me out of their way. I knew I should step back, but I was terrified that if I left her side, I’d lose her, and I couldn’t lose her.

Finally, it was my father who pulled me back and then stumbled to the floor, weeping.

“She has to make it.” Tears streamed down his face. “I’ll never forgive myself… she has to!”

The last sound I heard was one of the EMTs yelling, “She’s suffocating!”

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

I’d always thought death would be peaceful — it’s not. Especially when the last thing you see before you close your eyes is that of a person ending their own life. You have to wonder. Is anything ever so bad that death seems the only option? —Lisa

Lisa

MY CHEST HURT.

My legs hurt.

Everything hurt.

And it was almost impossible to open my eyes. I tried, but they seemed too heavy, like something was pinning them shut. Flickers of the dream I’d just had resurfaced.

“Tristan?” I sniffled. “Say something!”

“You want me to say something?” he sneered. His blue eyes might as well have been steel as they pierced through every inch of my body. “Fine.”

I braced for impact.

“I hate you.” He said it slowly as if he wanted me to hear each word and commit it to my memory. “I love you.”

“What?” Tears fell across my lips. “What did you say?”

“Both.” He put his hands on his hips. “I feel both.”

I took a tentative step toward him. “Which wins?”

“The one you give power to,” he said seriously. “The one I choose to give power to.”

“Love?” I begged, pleaded, my voice hoarse.

Tristan’s smile was sad as he took a step back and gave his head a solid shake. “No, sweetheart. I’m sorry, but no.”

He left.

Hope died in my chest.

I stared down at the ground, closing my eyes, wishing for snow, wishing for a do-over. Wishing I could go back and make the footprints straight in the snow, wishing I wouldn’t have chosen death.

Because that’s what I was experiencing. Death. Taylor had killed me, and in killing me, he had taken away Tristan.

My eyes stung with unshed tears. Why couldn’t I move?

“I hate hospitals, freaking hate them.” Gabe’s voice trickled into my consciousness.

Wait a second, I wasn’t dead? My fuzzy mind started gaining more consciousness.

“Right.” Wes laughed. “Because out of the two of us, you have a better reason than me?”

“Touché.”

“Shh,” Tristan grumbled. “She’s still sleeping.”

More voices, this time from Kiersten and Saylor, and then another voice, a deep one I didn’t recognize. I tried to open my eyes again but finally gave up. Too exhausted to care. Sleep was coming for me again, but I wanted to stay awake. I strained to stay awake.

Instead, I drifted in and out of the fog of sleep, not sure how much time had passed. When I finally got one eye open, it was to see Tristan and another man — the Secretary of State? His dad? — talking in the corner.

“You tested products on him?”

His father sighed. “Nothing was working. His diagnosis was… well, at the time everything seemed to make him more erratic. The only reason I gave him his freedom when he turned eighteen was because he begged for it, said he’d do better. And I believed him because, until his attempted suicide, he did fine. Stayed out of trouble, spent money, even said he had a girlfriend. I thought things were fine.”

“And the drugs?”

“I kept sending them.” His father shuddered. “I sent the newer ones, hoping they’d be stronger, hoping they’d work better.”