Break Me (Brayshaw High 5)

She fucking jumps.

The water splashes onto the cement, her body popping back up to the surface from the momentum, but then she starts to sink, flapping around as much as her tied wrists allow.

Her body, her adrenaline, it’s too high. She jerks wildly in the pool.

I flatten myself against the fence as she begins screaming for help, shouting and choking on water.

What—

“Fucking help her!” Bass screams, damn near fucking cries, attempting to climb once more, and this time, Leo’s shot is closer, intentionally missed, but closer.

A shard of metal slices through Bass’ cheek, but he doesn’t flinch. I’m not even sure he’s aware of it.

My mind races, eyes glued on Brielle, on the water as it bubbles at the surface.

“Brielle!” I shout, panic brewing in my gut. “Baby, re—”

“Remember this pool, Bishop?” Leo shouts, cutting me off. “Remember your little story of how we were one and the same, kids locked inside ‘cause proof of our daddies’ hands were printed across us, how you tried to get in my head, relate to me? How you shared that, like me, you and your little sister never learned to swim. How you tossed me in there, watched me drown only to pull me out last second, and toss me in again? And again?” he seethes.

My brows lift and I quickly realize what’s happening here.

Bass, he’s downright fuckin’ terrified, two seconds from being blown apart—he’s about to hop this fucking fence and do all he can to save her, gun yielding psycho be damned.

Brielle begins to sink and a shrill zing shoots through my body. I shake my head.

This ain’t right.

I remember Brielle’s story, about the water, how they never learned.

How she and Bass talked about the two learning to swim, and the sadness she heard in his voice. The pain.

That must have been the night after he nearly killed Leo with a weapon that he realized then could easily be used against himself—water.

But not Brielle.

Not my girl.

Because my baby, I taught her how to float.

He grabs a hold of me, tearing me to him. “You lying prick.” Bass’ lip curls, his body shaking. “You said you loved her and look at you—”

“Trust me,” I beg.

He jerks in my hold, but I yank him tight.

“Fucking trust me, goddamn it!” I hiss through clenched teeth.

Tears fill his eyes. “She’s—”

“Faking.”

His brows snap together, his nostrils flaring as he whips around, staring.

“She’s fucking faking, man,” I whisper.

Right? That’s what she’s doing?

I look to her, at her lifeless body as it floats along the surface.

“Royce,” he croaks.

My chest aches, and I grip the fence, the night around me denying my lungs air.

I choke on nothing.

Was I wrong?

Did she panic?

Forget?

Her body. It hasn’t moved.

I bang on the fence, and nothing.

Leo’s laughter rings in the distance, Bass’ desperate plea, and my knees slam against the concrete.

Her hair, it’s fanned out at her side, her torso up higher than her arms and legs, and I think her head is tipped just enough to sneak the smallest of breaths through the edge of her lips, but I can’t be sure.

My mind says to trust her, that she’s brave and smart and a fighter in her own way, but my heart can hardly fucking take it.

“Well, that was sort of anti-climactic.” Leo tips his head. He walks to the far corner of the pool, farthest away from us, and allows the gun to hang low on its strap, the weight carrying it to his back. He picks up a long pool pole, a giant net attached to the end.

He walks toward the other side of the deep end, and slips it into the water, drawing closer to her and my hands find the metal links again. “Let’s see if she’s good and gone, huh?”

Slowly, I pull to my feet, Bass right beside me.

My gut tightens.

Bass shakes his head, ready to say fuck it, and scale the fence. “We can’t get over before he reaches her. We can’t get over before he reaches for the gun either.”

I swallow, licking my lips. I know.

I thought of this already, and there’s only one answer.

“He can’t shoot us both, Bishop.”

In my peripheral, his head snaps my way, but I don’t look.

“He’s only got one shot left.” I force past my lips.

Me.

It has to be me.

If I jump, he’ll focus on me, use what I’m not sure he realizes is his last shot on me, and she can get to safety while Bass takes his ass out.

It has to be me.

This must be what I was meant for, why I never grew close to anyone else but her, because I was meant for this moment, born for it.

I was born to love Brielle Bishop, so in the end, I would be here to save her, to give her back what she lost—her family. Her life.

I was born to die for her, and that’s something I won’t hesitate to do.