The Music We Make ✔️

Bonus Chapter: Wake Up

Drew's P.O.V.

"Run!" I yelled over my shoulder to Cora as I made a grab for the gun.

I couldn't let her get hurt.

I couldn't let him win.

I heard her frantic steps get fainter and fainter, and I relaxed the slightest bit when I couldn't hear them anymore. I still had to worry about myself, but at least Cora was safe.

"What the hell are you doing?" Peter demanded.

I finally got a hold on the barrel of the pistol and pulled as hard as I could. I just needed to get it away from him.

He tried to push my away with the hand that wasn't holding the gun, but I didn't budge.

"I'm bigger and stronger than you, just give up." He growled, pulling on the gun so hard that I stumbled forward.

I grabbed his arm to steady myself and he pulled the gun out of my hand when he noticed that I was distracted trying not to trip.

He ripped his arm from my grasp and took a few steps back, aiming the pistol at me. His whole body was shaking in anger as he spoke again, "You made a big mistake Drew."

I was paralyzed in fear as he switched off the safety on the gun.

"I really am disappointed that you got involved in this. I warned you to stay away from Cora. If you had just listened to me you wouldn't be in this mess."

He was right. He did tell me to stay away from Cora after she accused my parents of her parents death. I didn't think much of it at the time, but I guess somewhere deep down, he cared about me.

"Don't do this Rufus." I begged, using the name I knew him by.

There was two different people in him; Peter and Rufus. One being a killer and the other a friend. If I could break though to Rufus, I had a chance.

He violently shook his head, "Don't call me that! My name is Peter Bryerson!"

"Not to me. I know you as Rufus, my friend. The only one that supported me with my music." I reasoned, taking a slow step forward.

His eyes softened but he still held the gun up to me.

I was getting to him.

"Let's just forget this happened and you can go back to being Rufus." I continued, taking another step toward him.

His shoulders relaxed and he began to lower the gun, but then sirens started blaring in the distance.

"You traitor!" He yelled, raising the gun again.

I opened my mouth to tell him that I didn't call the police, but I didn't get the chance.

BANG

I looked down at my chest in shock.

My white shirt was turning red as blood flowed from my wound.

A wound made by a bullet.

Then reality struck and I fell to the ground, sharp and burning pain starting in my chest and spreading throughout my whole body.

I screamed in agony as black spots filled my vision and the pain intensified.

I vaguely noticed the sound of sirens close by, and commotion all around me, but I couldn't lift my head to see what was going on.

I laid helplessly on the ground as I tried to call for help, but no sound came out. I didn't have the energy.