Juliet Immortal
Perhaps so that I can die tragically—
poetically—
by his hand, as I believed I had for so long.
But he will shoot me if he sees me. He wants me dead. I crawl faster, praying he won’t turn to look my way. Behind the curtain I hear the dancers who’ve just left the stage shouting for everyone to run. That “Dylan has a gun!” and “We’re going to die!” and “Hurry, the back door!”
The back door
. Ben. Intermission. It’s time. He’s there, waiting for me.
He’ll figure out that something bad has happened quickly enough. And then he’ll come searching for me, to make sure I’ve gotten out, and Romeo will be waiting with his gun. Ben won’t have a chance. If he sets foot in this theater he’s a dead man.
Biting my lip to keep from crying out, I force myself to myfeet and stagger toward the stage door, clutching at the knife that burns in my core, sending flames to lick my spine. My heart thuds dully in my chest, my ears, my brain, struggling for survival. What remains of my healing gifts aside, I’ll be dead within the hour if I don’t get help. I’m losing too much blood, and something feels … wrong. Romeo has hit something important.
Important
. I have to get to Ben. I have to keep him safe.
I push through the curtains and aim myself at the exit. Everyone else has already fled. The backstage is deserted and the door closed. No. Open.
Opening
.
Ben’s face appears in the space between door and building, backlit by that sickly orange. He sees me and I feel his relief, followed closely by his fear. It’s too dark to see the blood, the knife, but he can tell that I’m not walking the way I should.
“Ariel? What happened, what—”
“Run. Dylan has a gun,” I rasp as I reach for him—taking the support he offers, urging him back out the door. He doesn’t ask any more questions, just puts his arm around my waist and helps me out into the night.
I know the second he sees the knife, feel the tremor work through his body, tearing at things inside him. “Oh god.” It isn’t a curse, it’s a prayer, a plea to save something he’s afraid is already lost. “He did this to you.”
I don’t bother to answer. I’m channeling all my energy into moving my feet down the concrete path. He already knows the truth.
“I shouldn’t have left you alone. I’m going to kill him,” he says, choking on the words. “I’m going to cut him apart with—”
“Don’t. Please.” I find the hand he’s placed on my hip and squeeze, shocked at how warm he feels. He’s burning up.
No, I’m freezing. Cold. Dying. The thought makes my next breath catch. I don’t want to die and leave Ben, especially not bearing the same curse I’ve suffered for far too long.
“It’s not your fault. There’s nothing you could have done.” I stumble as we veer off the path, through the sodden grass, toward the line of cars parked along the road. The parking lot wasn’t big enough to handle the number of people who came to the show. People who are now running for their lives, streaming out into the night, jumping into cars where they assume they’ll be safe.
I have to make sure Ben is safe.
“Forget about Dylan. Just leave this place. If I don’t make it to the—”
“You’re going to make it. I love you,” he says, a hitch in his voice.
“I love you too,” I whisper. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe, but at least the pain is fading, drifting away from my body, an iceberg floating out to sea.
“Please don’t die, Ariel. Please.” He wraps his arm tighter around me, until his hand brushes against where the blood has soaked through my shirt, gluing the fabric to my skin. He flinches, then turns and slides his arm under my knees, sweeping me into the air. The sudden shift makes the knife move inside me. I groan and my head falls back, eyes filling with dark sky.
“Put your hands over it and push down,” Ben says. “Apply as much pressure as you can. I’m going to put you in the backseat and drive like hell to the hospital. I’ll get you there fasterthan an ambulance could get here and back.” Ben’s voice is strained and breathless, giving testimony to just how fast he’s moving as he rushes down the row of cars. He’s running for my life, and pauses only a split second as we pass a group of sobbing people to order someone to “call the emergency room at Cottage Hospital. Tell them I’m bringing in a girl who’s been stabbed in the stomach.”
“Oh my god, is
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