Contrite ✓

Chapter 43.

The screaming wouldn't stop. It pierced through my ears and I didn't know if it came from inside my head or if I actually was wailing that loud. I pressed a hand against my mouth to shut myself up, but it still continued.

I had managed to tear free from the ropes binding my wrists together and I was kneeling beside Harry. I feverishly pressed my shaking hands against his bleeding stomach, trying to see through the tears streaming down my face.

Crimson blood was everywhere; smeared over my knees, splattered over my pink shirt and probably across my face as well. My hands were dripping with the warm, wet liquid but Harry's front was the worst. His white shirt was soaked in vibrant red.

I looked up and realised Heather was the one screaming. She had appeared in the doorway as well and stood a few feet behind a paralysed Cole. He had dropped the knife on the floor and was breathing hard.

"What the fuck, Cole?!" Heather screeched. "I thought we agreed on not killing anyone!"

She pushed past him and fell to her knees in front of me, reaching out a hand to touch Harry's face.

"Get the hell away from him!" I yelled and smacked her hand away.

What made her think she had the right to touch him, to be upset about the situation? She'd been a part of it all and were to blame just as much as Cole.

Never had I felt more powerless. "If you want to do something, call an ambulance," I whispered harshly.

Her bottom lip trembled and she swallowed hard, before discreetly picking up her phone.

Since Harry fell down it felt like hours had passed, but I knew it was probably only minutes. What do I do? Panic laced my thoughts and I kept pressing my hands to his stomach, desperately trying to stop the flow of blood.

"Harry, please don't leave me," I sobbed. "Please don't."

I leaned down and pressed my lips to his cold, clammy forehead. "I love you, Harry. I love you so much. Stay with me."

One of his hands twitched and a surge of hope swirled through my belly. I grabbed it and gently intertwined our fingers, stroking my thumb over the back of his hand.

His eyes fluttered a little but didn't open. I saw his lips moving the tiniest bit and a gurgling noise came from his throat.

I cried harder and tried to hush him, stroking my hand across his hair. "Shh, don't speak, just hang in there. The ambulance will be here soon."

The hand that had squeezed mine suddenly fell limp, his fingers separating themselves from mine. I pressed my eyes closed and begged for help to come soon.

The front door burst open and like an answer to my prayers, Dylan and Max rushed into the room. They froze for a couple of seconds while taking in the scene, eyes widening in horror.

Max didn't hesitate as he pulled out a gun from the waistband of his jeans and pointed it straight at Cole. "Back. The fuck. Up," he bit out.

Cole stared at Max, eyes huge as saucers and slowly held up his hands. He walked backwards and bumped into the fridge, still holding his hands in the air.

"Good. Now get down on your knees and keep your hands above your head," Max said in an unnervingly calm voice.

Cole obeyed and soon Max had stormed over to secure his wrist together with a cable tie.

Dylan got down on the floor beside me and gently pried my hands off Harry's body, replacing them with his own. "I know how to do this," he said reassuringly.