Unexpected

"You don't have the guts." Clint takes another step towards me. I pull the trigger, but nothing happens. Clint laughs and continues his slow descent across the room. Panicking, I look at the gun to see what could have gone wrong. There's a tiny lever on the side, near my thumb, facing up. I flick it down and raise my arms again.

"Stop!" I demand.

Clint laughs again and takes another step. He's just over an arm's length away, close enough to hurt me if he lunged but far away enough that I can still defend myself. He lifts his foot to close the space between us and I try again.

I squeeze my trigger and lose my balance. The force of the gun topples me backward, to the floor. I land on my ass beside Mary Anne, unable to hear anything over the ringing in my ears.

I crawl to my feet and run past Clint. He gasps on the carpet as blood pools from the hole in his chest.

I fall to the ground beside Asher and press my fingertips to his neck. I can't find a pulse. I don't know how to do CPR, but I try anyway. It can't be that hard. Pinch the nose. Breathe into the mouth. Push like hell against the chest until he comes back to life. I can do that.

I pinch Asher's nose shut with one hand and open his mouth with the other. I press my lips to his, pushing my air into his lungs because I refuse to let him die. I blow one more breath then move to his chest. In the movies, people place their hands near the center, between the nipples. I link my fingers together and press with all my might. I'm not sure if it works, but I push two more times before trying to blow air into Asher's mouth again.

On my second breath, Asher gasps, then coughs. I fall onto my ass, struggling to breathe myself as tears pour down my cheeks. "Asher?"

He coughs again and rolls onto his side. "I think you broke my rib."

"Asher!" I yell and throw my arms around him. He pushes onto one arm and holds me tight. "I thought I lost you."

He comforts me for a few minutes before pulling back and rising to his feet. His eyes scan the room, taking everything in. He walks across the carpet, picks up the gun, and wipes the handle with his shirt.

"What are you doing?"

"Call 911, Ellie." Asher walks over to Clint's body and kicks his leg. Clint doesn't move, doesn't breathe. "Call your dad, too. I'm in serious shit."

"You?" I reach for Asher's hand but he pulls back. "I did this."

"No. You waited in the car until you heard the gun go off. Then you came inside and saw all of this."

I run my hands over my face and shake my head. "What are you talking about?"

"Ellie.” Asher grabs my arm and looks me in the eye. "It's my fault you're in this mess. I knew better than to drag you into my life. I won't let you ruin your life for me. Call your dad. He'll help make this go away."

I rub my hand underneath my nose and nod. Asher is right. Dad can do just about anything. He'll see the holes in Asher's story and realize I shot Clint. He'll know that I had no choice and he'll make everything alright.

It takes thirty minutes for Dad to make it to Asher's house. I meet him outside and tell him everything before Asher can screw it up. Dad looks at me, tears welling in his eyes, and says, "It's okay, honey. You did the right thing."

He pulls me into a hug and we walk inside together. Asher kneels over his mother but stands when he sees us and wipes at his eyes. "Sir."

Dad nods, but frowns. "Want to tell me what happened?"

"Yes, sir, but can we go outside?”

"Of course."

I sit on the steps, hugging myself as they walk around the cul de sac. I wish I smoked. Maybe that would make the shaking go away. I rub my hands along the back of my neck and sigh. Everything will be alright.

Dad pulls his phone from his pocket and places it to his ear. This is it. The defining moment of my life. I'll be put in the back of a cop car and fingerprinted, but I'll be alright. I was defending myself and Asher. Any judge will see that. besides, the world is a better place without that scum on this earth.

The cops arrive in less than thirty minutes. They walk into the house. I take a breath, preparing myself for what's next. Yellow tape is strung around the exterior as one officer says, "Asher Anderson, you're under arrest."

I don’t know how I got home. Logic tells me I got into Mom’s car sometime after the police carted Asher away and she drove. Logic also tells me that I walked inside. Changed out of my bloodied clothes. Took a shower. Fell onto my bed and possibly even went to sleep. I don’t remember any of it.

All I remember is the blood seeping into the carpet under Clint's lifeless body. I remember Mary Anne's beautiful face, ashen and covered in bruises. The purple marks on her cheeks were nothing compared to the ones around her neck. Asher’s step-dad choked his mom to death and then went after him.

Tears pool in my eyes and I shut them to push away the sting. I should be the one behind bars, not Asher. I shot Clint. I'm the murderer. And yet, I'm lying in my comfy bed while he lays on a metal slab. It's not fair. My life will go on as normal and he will lose everything. His scholarship to UF. His home. All of the belongings in that ta

ttered house.