Beautifully Hurt (Beautifully Broken)

It’s the guy from the bar a couple of months back. The one who wouldn’t leave me alone.

He sneers down at me, an insane light in his eyes. “Think you’re too good for the likes of me, bitch?”

I quickly shake my head while trying to squirm out from beneath his weight.

White-hot panic seizes me in a terrifying grip. Even though the lights are on, it feels as if everything around me is growing dark.

Katie lets out a devastating cry, and I have to tilt my head back so I can see her. I can’t make out much of the guy, but from the way her body’s jerking, it’s clear he’s forcing himself on her.

“Katie,” I whimper as my heart shatters to pieces. “Katie.” Her eyes find mine, and I hold her devastated gaze. “I’m here.”

A hard slap to my face makes my eyes squeeze shut for a second. Through the sharp sting, I force them open for Katie only to see the guy pressing the gun to her forehead.

“No!” I scream, and then a shot rips a gaping hole through my entire world. “Katie!” My cry is hoarse, not sounding familiar at all.

Devastation suffocates me, so intense and raw, I can’t process any of it.

The guy on top of me grabs hold of my jaw and forces me to look at him. “Now it’s just us. You owe me for the broken nose your boyfriend gave me.”

Bucking with all my strength born from the adrenaline and anguish filling my veins, I manage to throw him off, and then I shoot to my feet and race up the stairs to the second floor. I dart into Katie’s room and lock the door behind me before grabbing my phone off the bed.

My fingers shake so badly I struggle to bring up my call list so I can dial 911.

My heart thunders in my ears, and it’s hard to focus, my thoughts screaming in my head.

He shot Katie.

Katie.

Mrs. Conley.

Mr. Conley.

The blood.

The cruelty.

A bang to the door makes it shudder open, and as I swing around, I press dial on the last call I had, which I think was Eli.

One of the guys fills the doorway, and looking at me with a crazed expression on his face, he lifts his arm, training the gun on me. “It wouldn’t have killed you to put out.” He chuckles darkly. “Unlike now.”

He pulls the trigger, but I don’t hear the shot. I don’t feel as the bullet hits me. I stagger back and fall, hitting the side of the bed before tumbling to the carpet.

“The bitch fucking called someone,” I hear one of them growl. “Come on, we got to go!”

The one with the gun comes to stand over me, and sneering, he spits at me before he pulls the trigger again.

I don’t feel anything as my body jerks, and my eyes drift closed.

I’m sucked into a dark hole where I keep hearing Katie’s devastated cry.

I see her body jerk and the naked horror in her eyes.

All I feel is unbearable anguish, and then I lose the fight, and I let the darkness take me… hoping I’ll find Katie waiting for me.

ELI

The song that’s playing on my phone cuts out as the device starts to ring.

Setting down the drill, I swipe the phone off the bench and glance at the screen. Seeing Quinn’s name flashing on the screen, a smile spreads over my face.

“Hey,” I answer. “Miss me already?”

A muffled sound comes over the line, and for a moment, I wonder if Quinn butt-dialed me, but then I hear a guy sneer, “It wouldn’t have killed you to put out.” There’s an insane-sounding chuckle. “Unlike now.”

What. The. Actual. Fuck?

“Quinn?” My voice is hoarse as anger starts to simmer in my veins. “Who’s that?”

Wait. Quinn’s at Katie’s house? They were going to stay in.

The sound of a gunshot sends my body rocketing forward, and I’m out of the gazebo I’m building in the backyard and running as fast as I can to the front where my truck is. I climb inside and start the engine hoping that Quinn’s at Katie’s place and they didn’t go out.

Still holding the phone to my hear, I hear a guy say, “The bitch fucking called someone. Come on, we got to go!”

Fear, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before, shudders through me, sending my heart racing like a wild beast.

Quinn.

My Quinn.

I throw the truck in gear, and as I floor the gas, another shot explodes over the line, making the breath stall in my throat.

Christ. No.

No. No. No.

The truck’s tail skids as I take a corner, and when I don’t hear anything else from the call, I end it and dial Dad’s number.

“Hey,” his voice rumbles in my ear.

“The Conley house. Quinn called. I heard gunshots.”

“Wait for me,” Dad orders, and I hear him move, his footsteps pounding on the wooden floor.