If You Were Ours

Chapter Seventy Eight - Dane

Dane ~

A part of me always thought death would be peaceful. That it would be easy to accept when my time finally came after all the shit I'd done and witnessed. I always thought that when the world started to fade from view, I'd be relieved and ready. But I was wrong.

Death wasn't peaceful. It was violent and terrifying...and I wasn't ready.

I could feel the life draining from my body as Kinsley held me in her lap, knowing I was minutes from death. Moving became difficult and my extremities stopped responding to my commands as darkness started to cloud my peripheral vision. I kept my eyes glued to Kinsley as darkness took over, and once her face was out of sight I didn't feel peace...I felt rage.

There was so much life that had left to experience with her - with Tyson. The three of us who had been through hell and back already. No, there was no way I was giving that up, so I fought. My life with Kinsley had just started and someone had tried to rip that away from us. There was no way I was going to let that asshole win.

I felt like I was drowning at one point, unable to breathe or move with nothing but darkness and unnerving quiet so I pictured Kinsleys sweet face and clung to that image like my life depended on it - and it did.

I pictured the way she looked at us that first night at Onyx with her big innocent doe eyes, so curious and pure right between Tyson and I - right where she belonged. I pictured how her smile would go all the way up to her eyes when she laughed and my mind grasped and clung to images of her and Tyson being playful at the house. Some of my favorite memories are watching them teasing and playing with one another, chasing each other around the house or wrestling around on the cushions of the media room without a care in the world. Kinsley had so much light in her and that light was contagious, brightening the darkest of souls, even Tyson's. I pictured the soft contentment on Kinsleys face when she painted - the way the tip of her tongue poked out from between her lips while she worked.

These memories aren't enough. I need more.

I had to get back to her. I wanted more of those memories, more of those priceless experiences.

This isn't my time. Not yet.

Eventually I started to feel the urge to move and open my eyes, fighting like hell to stay present and instead of fading away.

I internally screamed at my muscles to move, but they refused to respond which only fueled my anger and determination.

My eyelids were heavy and battled against me, but I was able to open them slightly, letting in the bright blurry scene around me.

Keeping my eyes closed was easier and laying completely still felt good, but I was scared of peace at the moment - I had to fight.

I forced my eyes open and blinked away the glassy blur of the room, trying to take in my surroundings to figure out where I was.

As my eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room the sterile smell of a hospital was the first thing that registered with me, followed by the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor.

Opening my eyes wider, I felt my senses start to come alive slowly as I took in the room. I turned to my right and saw a large body leaning forward, resting on the edge of my bed with his elbows.

Tyson.

He had one of my hands between his, holding them against his forehead as he rested his eyes.

His scowl was still fully intact, even as he dozed, but the second I shifted my hand beneath his, Tysons eyes snapped open and shot over toward me.