Vicious Lies (Lies 1)

I push the tweezers in, digging for the bullet.

She doesn’t move.

She doesn’t hiss.

Scream.

Cry.

Did she pass out from the pain? Die of a sudden heart attack?

No, she’s still breathing.

“Will you hurry up? This isn’t exactly enjoyable for me, you know?”

I laugh. “Deep breath, Liesel.”

And then I yank the bullet out on her exhale.

I plop the bullet and tweezers into a plastic bag and then apply gauze to her shoulder to stop the bleeding.

“Hard part’s over.”

“Really? I imagine the stitches aren’t a cakewalk.”

“Staples are faster.”

“Let’s go with the staples then,” Liesel says, flashing me a grin over her shoulder.

I grab the bottle of scotch and hold it up to her lips. “Take one more sip.”

She grips the bottle with her good arm and starts drinking while I apply the three quick staples into her back. Then I secure a gauze bandage to the wound and wipe the blood from her back and arm.

“All done,” I say.

She nods and rests the bottle between her legs on the bed.

I gather up the supplies, put them back in the bag, and carry them into the bathroom, where I catch a glance of myself in the mirror.

I’m a monster.

She deserves better.

When I walk back into the bedroom, I lock eyes with her.

Liesel—the badass motherfucker.

My huntress.

My liar.

Mine.

I won’t fail you again.

And to prove it, I say two little words I never thought I’d say to her.

“I’m sorry.”