And I, you

CHAPTER 7: SAVIOUR COMPLEX

'Did we look like lovers or partners in crime?'

- Finneas, "Partners In Crime"

"What do you think you're doing?" I ask the cab driver, the cool metal of the gun, heaving against my forehead. 

Just breathe.

"You've been toying with him for too long, we need him back in the game, the stakes are too high," he angrily whispers into my ear, his breath sending chills down my spine. 

"I- what? Toying with whom?" I ask the person.

"Ezra, you're messing with his head, we need him"

"How does any of this concern me? You're making a mistake, I work in the police department, this is not going to end well for you," I say to him and push his nearing body off mine. 

"You're in an area with no signals, practically off the grid, no one can save you now," he says to me and my insides turn cold.

Just breathe. 

"Why is there a gun pointed at me in the middle of nowhere? For Ezra? There is zero connection between us, absolutely none. Stop this," I say to him and try to search for my cane in the cab. My hands roam around the backseat trying to look for it, but suddenly something sticky comes across my fingers. I pick it up but it's liquidy, dripping from my hands.

Blood.

There is blood on the backseat, 2 centimetres away from where I'm sitting. 

To whom does it belong? It's not mine, I don't think it is his, could it be-

"You're thinking too much, we have to do something about this," he says to me and before I can respond, he smacks the butt of the gun against my jaw. My lips start to bleed and my breathing gets shallow. I try to retaliate but before I can use the strength of my hands, he ties them behind my back. He ties my feet along as well and puts duct tape on my mouth. Tears fall from my eyes and onto my thighs, I rubbed the blood on my clothes. My tears are falling there. 

I don't know if I'm crying out of fear of my life, for the possibility of final freedom or for the person whose blood I have on my clothes. 

I try to speak but the tape is wound tightly against my mouth and only muffled sounds come out.

"I'm sorry, were you trying to say something?" he says to me, chuckling to himself and in that moment, I hate him. I hate him more than I have hated anyone in my entire life. He tied my hands, I can't even flip him off. He really seems to be enjoying himself, what a psychopath. His driving speed increases and he takes the car on some bumpy road, I keep hitting myself continuously. Son of a bitch, he's doing it on purpose.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally stops the car and gets out. He paces around the car and although I can't see him, by his shouting I can tell he's talking to someone on the phone. He grabs the door handle suddenly and pulls me out. My face hits the ground and I groan in pain, more blood gushes out but it doesn't faze him. 

"This is where I end you," he says to me and takes out his gun or maybe it was out all along, I wouldn't know. He removes the duct tape from my mouth and I gasp, filling my lungs with as much air possible since it might be their last. 

"What's the plan genius? You kill me here and dump me?" I ask him.

"How smart of you, too bad you cannot see though. We're on a cliff, I'm gonna push you off after shooting you. Any last words, milady?"

"Yeah, fuck you," I say to him and wait for the bullet. A gunshot sound echoes near me, did he pull the trigger already? 

Why don't I feel any pain? 

Is this numbness? 

Did he perhaps miss his shot?

"Are you okay? I came here as fast as I could," a voice says to me in the dark, putting its arms around me.

"Ezra?"

                                                                                        ***

"What are you doing here?" I ask him and try to push his arms away from me, but he just wraps them more closely instead. 

"You're okay, thank god you're okay," he whispers more to himself and caresses my hair. His fast breathing gets more even as time passes by and I stay there in his arms, sobbing so violently that my whole body shakes. 

I almost died. God knows how bad things would've gotten if he hadn't come, but it was all his fault too. I almost died, because of him. 

He unties my hands and legs and they hurt so much, the rope cut deep. More scars on my body, more memories to haunt me in my dreams, it's sad how life plays out. 

"Did he hit you?" Ezra asks me, his fingers lingering on my lips. He must've noticed the blood on them. I nod slightly and he gently starts wiping the blood off with a handkerchief. 

How can someone be so gentle after killing someone?

"Luna?" he asks me, my name soft on his lips. This triggers a memory in my brain.

Luna Luna Luna Luna Luna Luna Luna Edgar.

"Edgar," I say his name. It's been a while since I have said it out loud, he's always in my memories but never on my lips. Ezra winces when I say his name and takes a step back.

"You killed my son, you killed Edgar, how could you? How could you kill my son?" I say and start weeping. I've always blamed myself for what happened, it haunts me day and night, every second of my life. Every time I breathe it's just a reminder of how my son cannot, of how he's never coming back, of how he's dead. This is why I hate breathing. 

It feels good to blame someone else. 

"Luna, I didn't. I didn't kill our Edgar," he says and puts his arms around me again. 

"Let me go," I say and stand up. He tries to help me but I push his hands away. There is blood on them, the blood of the man who almost killed me. 

"Let me help you," he says and hands me my cane. 

"I hate you," I say to him," I hate you, more than I hate breathing."

"I'm glad," he says and covers me with his jacket, I didn't even realise I was shivering till he did this," I wish I could say the same."