Don’t Let Me Break by Linda Verji

 

 

CHAPTER 32

 

Hazel came awake to find herself staring right into the barrel of a gun.

This bitch! She furiously cussed Marley out in her head even as immediate fear swooped in to slap away the haze that usually accompanied her entrance.

“Did you just faint?” A man yanked her attention up to his face.

“Who are y-” She stopped speaking when she realized who was holding the gun to her head. “Zion?”

What the hell was going on here? Why was Zion pointing at her? Wasn’t he Marley’s friend? Was the gun actually loaded? Or was this just a prank?

“Sit up!” he ordered furiously. His expression left no doubt that this wasn’t a prank.

Hazel immediately sat up. However, even as fear raced through her, her brain was still functioning well enough to appraise her situation.

Time? Nighttime.

Day? No idea. The last thing she remembered was falling asleep on Sebastian’s couch. Today could be days after or even months after. Who knew!

Location? No idea either. But given that she could see the tops of some building from her position, it was obvious that she was on a rooftop. About It’s rooftop? She couldn’t be sure because she’d only been to the company once and hadn’t really had a chance to look around. However, Zion’s presence here made it very likely.

Eyeing the gun nervously, she asked, “Zion, are you planning to kill me?”

“No questions,” he barked. “Pick up the pen.”

“What p- oh!” She paused when she saw the pen and open notebook in front of her. Her nature instantly rebelled at the idea of obeying his command so easily, but he had a gun. She picked up the pen.

“Write,” he ordered, while still waving his gun at her.

She itched to say that she wasn’t writing a damn thing until he explained what was happening here. But Zion’s expression was so forbidding that her good sense intervened. Pen hovering over the notebook, she asked, “Write what?”

“Title.” He recited, “My Suicide Note.”

Oh. Hell. No!

Hazel’s whole body, including the fingers holding the pen, went still. Her brain did some quick math to figure out why he was making her write a goodbye message and speedily came up with an answer. Fear transformed into horror.

This asshole wanted her to write her own suicide note so that when he killed her, as it seemed he was about to do, people would think she’d kill herself. No wonder that coward, Marley, had jumped off the train.

Wow, Marley. Just wow!

“Write.” Zion pressed the gun to her temple.

For the first time in her life, Hazel wished that she had Marley’s special ‘talent’ of peacing-out whenever she couldn’t handle something. But since their maker had decided that Hazel would be the one left holding dangerous bags like this one, then… Hazel gave a mental sigh. Fine.

In a split second, she tuned out the terror and went into problem-solving mode.

She needed to escape. How? The exit of this darned rooftop was about one hundred feet away. Obviously, running there without a plan was out unless she was prepared to take a bullet in her back.

Should she scream? No, there was no one around here and she wasn’t sure that there was actually anyone in the building. Screaming would only rile up Zion and get her shot.

The only viable solution was to disarm Zion, but seeing how firmly he was holding the gun, this wasn’t the best time to do that. What she needed to do was distract him then when he had his guard down… Bam!

“Okay.” She picked up the pen. With a smile, she looked up at him. “What did you say to write again? My suicide plan?”

“No, I said-” Zion frowned. “Why are you smiling?”

“Oh, ya know.” Despite the intense coldness that had seeped into her every nerve, Hazel laughed. “If I’m going to die, then I’m going out with a smile.”

That confused Zion even more. “What?”

“We’re supposed to be writing here, Zion,” she reminded him. Her blasé tone revealed none of her fear. “What are we writing?”

“Um!” Zion rubbed the nape of his neck with his free hand even as his puzzled eyes stayed on her. The gun shook slightly in his grip. “You should- you should write. My Suicide Note.”

“My.” Hazel slowly wrote the word at the top of the page. “Su.-” She paused to meet his gaze. “How do you spell suicide?”

“S. U. I-” He paused. “What’s wrong with you?”

Hazel gave him an innocent look. “What do you mean?”

“You’re different. You’re-” He shook his head as if to clear his confusion. “Forget it. Just write the note.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” she returned flippantly. “How do you spell suicide?”

“I don’t know.” He scowled. “Spell it the way you want.”

“S. U. Y… No, No, No.” She looked up at him with a frown. “It’s an I, right?”

“It’s an I,” he gritted between his teeth.

“S. U. I. S…” She turned back to him. “Is it an S or a C?”

“Are you kidding me?” He exploded. “Are you fucking dumb?”

Of course, she wasn’t dumb. She knew how to spell the word. She also knew that she was antagonizing him with all her silly questions. However, she figured that he needed this note to absolve himself of her murder. No matter how long she took to write it, he’d bear with her. This was a good way to buy herself some extra escape-planning time.

“Sorry, dude!” she snapped back. “Not everyone was a Spelling Bee champion.”

“S. U. I. C. I. D. E,” he spelled with obvious frustration.

“Thank you,” she sang cheerfully. Even though she had a gun to her temple, she slowly wrote the word. “Okay… next word was plan, right?”

“Right,” he agreed then quickly changed his mind. “No, not right. It’s suicide note, not suicide plan.” Annoyed with himself and her, he rapped out, “Suicide note. Suicide note.”

Despite the terror racing through her, Hazel’s lips kicked up in a half smile as she wrote, “N. O. T. E.” She looked up at him. “Done. Next?”

“Um… Okay, this is what you need to write.” He started, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to do this but-”

“Wait, wait, wait! Too fast.” She stopped him then began to write, “I’m… soooorrrrrry. I… diiiiiiiiidn’t….” The pen moved at an agonizingly slow pace over the paper. “… Diiiiiidn’t waaaaaaaant-”

“Why are you writing so slowly?” Zion complained. “Write faster.”

“Can’t. This is just the way I write. Sorry.” Ignoring the firming of his gun on her temple, she continued, “Where were we? Oh yeah… want to dooooo…. What was the next word?”

“Do this,” he reminded her with unrestrained irritation. “I didn’t want to do this but-”

“Slow down.” Painstakingly, she wrote his words down. “-this buuuut…”

Zion continued, “But I can’t hold on anymore.”

“Mm mm mm. Poor me.” Hazel shook her head. Suddenly, she looked up to meet his gaze. “PS. Why am I actually dying?”

The question came out of left-field, and it startled Zion. “Huh?”

“This note says that I’m about to die, so I’d like to know why.” She set the pen on the notepad, set her elbow on the table then propped her chin on her palm. “Why are you trying to kill me, Zion?”

“Stop asking questions.” He scowled. “Just write.”

“I will.” She smiled. “Right after you tell me why you’re trying to kill me.”

Fury flared in his gaze, and he pressed the gun painfully into her forehead. “I will shoot you right now.”

“No, you won’t.” Ignoring the pain caused by the gun’s barrel, she gestured with her mouth towards the just started note. “We both know you need this thing. If you want me to write it, then let me know why I’m writing it.”

“What do you want to know for?” he demanded. “It’s not like it will matter once you’re dead.”

“Let’s just say that it’s for my personal edification.” Smiling, she repeated, “So why am I dying?”

“Because you killed Gary.”

Hazel’s jaw dropped. “Who? Gary? My sperm-donor?”

Zion’s face contorted into a mask of rage. “You killed him.”

“No, I didn’t,” Hazel denied vehemently. “I didn’t kill him.”

“Yes, you did,” Zion snapped. “Don’t lie. Your grandma told me.”

“Well, she lied to you,” Hazel snapped right back. “That old bat is crazy. Why would you believe anything she says?”

The fear that held her in its grip was joined by anger. She even forgot that there was a gun pointing at her. This is why this psycho was trying to kill her? Because of a lie that Cece had told? Not even because of something she or Marley had done to him? Oh hell no! If Hazel got out of this situation alive, she was going to that nursing home to smother that old woman with a pillow.

“Cece isn’t crazy.” Zion’s eyes flared wildly. “She’s not crazy.”

“Uh… me, her doctor and everyone else with a brain beg to differ,” Hazel retorted. “My grandma has dementia, that’s why she’s in that nursing home.”

“That doesn’t mean that she’s crazy.”

“Obviously, she is if she told you that crazy story.” Hazel snorted. “I didn’t kill Gary. Everyone knows that my mom killed Gary. Everyone. That’s why she went to prison. If Cece said different, then it’s because of her dementia. And if you believe her, then maybe you should get checked out for dementia too.”

“No, no, no. You killed him,” Zion insisted even as his hand fell to the side of his body. His brain was working so hard to justify his accusations that it had probably forgotten that he was supposed to be holding a gun to her head. He continued, “Grandma saw you. She was there.”

“There where?” Hazel asked even as she noted his slackened hold on his weapon. “The crime scene?”

As she spoke, she slowly turned on the bench and swung her legs around so that she was seated facing him. Zion didn’t even notice her changed sitting position.

Hazel kept speaking. “That’s a lie. She wasn’t there. Even the police will tell you that. The only people in the house that night were Gary, my mom, Kenny, and me. No one else. Cece’s lying ass wasn’t there.”

Zion looked and sounded like he was having an internal meltdown. He looked lost and his tone was like that of a child as he asked, “She wasn’t there?”

“She wasn’t there,” Hazel reiterated. “Go to the cops. Check their files. You’ll find out.”

A long silence greeted her words. There was confusion and dissent in Zion’s eyes. Obviously, he was struggling with the idea that he might’ve done all this criminal stuff and come all this way on the basis of a false allegation. For a second, it looked like he was about to give up his plan, but then his gaze steeled.

“No, no, no. Cece wasn’t lying.” His tone was hard and uncompromising. Obviously, the truth was too much for him to swallow. He spat, “You’re the one who’s lying. You killed him. He was like my father. He was better than my father, and you killed him. You took him away from me. You took Gary aw-”

He never got to finish his rant because right then Hazel let her leg fly… straight between his legs to smash into his groin. The crunch from that kick was just as satisfying as the pained howl that cut off his words. But she didn’t give herself time to enjoy it. As he doubled over in pain and took several steps back as if to get away from her, she lunged towards the arm with the gun.

However, Zion’s pain tolerance was higher than expected. When she tried to snatch the gun, he yanked his hand backwards. His finger must’ve been on the trigger because a sudden force jolted her hand off his and the cracking sound of a gunshot tore through the silent night, startling her into temporary stillness.

It was all Zion needed. His arm flew, and the next moment, Hazel felt a sharp pain in the side of her face. She’d been pistol whipped.

“Ah!” she whimpered. The sharp pain was enough to send her staggering down to one knee. Everything ached… her ear, her cheek, her teeth, her jaw.

“Bitch!” Zion spat out, then raised his arm and hit her again. Hard metal met soft skin and broke it.

“Ah!” This time, her whole body fell sideways as waves of excruciating pain shot from her head to the rest of her body. Wetness slid down the side of her face where he’d hit her and her teeth shook. She felt her mouth filling up with a metallic tasting fluid. Blood.

“You killed him!” Zion’s pistol came flying again. This time, Hazel raised her arm to cover her face, and the gun smashed into her arm, sending fresh pain through the rest of her body. The pain made her head spin and keeping her eyes open just made the pain worse. She closed her eyes.

“Stand up!” Zion screamed. “Stand up.”

Even if Hazel wanted to stand, she couldn’t. Not when her head was spinning like this and every inch of her was screaming in pain.

“Stand up!” Zion roughly flipped her to lie on her back then yanked her up by her collar to half-seated position.

Hazel didn’t even have the energy to keep her body seated. Her upper body sagged backwards and her head flopped like that of a ragdoll.

“Stand up,” Zion screamed, but his scream sounded so far off. The fist around her collar tried to make her sit again, but her body fell back to the ground on its own.

“Fine, then I’ll just throw you off myself,” Zion growled.

I’m sorry, Marley. I tried. Hazel blacked out before he could make good on that threat.

 

* * * * *

 

“HEY,” SEBASTIAN GREETED the guards when he got to the lobby. Forcing himself to sound relaxed even though that wasn’t even close to how he felt, he asked, “Have you guys seen Marley?”

“Marley who?” one guard asked. “Marley Carter?”

“Yeah!” Sebastian nodded.

Pointing to the stairs at the other end of the lobby, the second guard said, “She and Zion just went up to the rooftop.”

The first guard asked, “Did you need her for something?”

“Yes,” Sebastian started, “Just some work that I need complete-”

He never got to a finish that sentence because right then they heard a loud crack. It sounded an awful lot like a gunshot. Worse, the sound had just come from the direction of the rooftop.

Oh God! Sebastian’s heart lurched, and real terror replaced his anxiousness. Without a second thought, he dashed towards the stairs.

“Sebastian, what’s wrong?” the guards shouted behind him.

But he didn’t answer. He just kept running. Oh God, Marley. Please be safe. Please be safe.