Lie, Baby, Lie ✔️

chapter twenty-five- wade

Chapter Twenty-Five

Mia weeps into my shirt, unable to form any real words. I'm trying to comfort her, but it's not working. Everything is hazy, unreal. My ears feel stuffy and broken after all the shots, and even though we're plunged back into the peace of the forest, I still hear the echoes.

Romero breaks the tension by appraising the aftermath.

"We're far enough out to have not made a scene," he says. "Hopefully, this will all be resolved easily."

Resolved. As if it's a problem with no real meaning, not the loss of life.

Sick, twisted asshole.

"You," he orders, pointing at one of his men. "Get this cleaned up. I have to make a call."

He stalks back into the house with haste, undoubtedly about to send someone after his family. Even though he's an evil menace of a man, I almost feel bad for him. I don't know if Thomas bluffed about killing his wife and kid, but there's a very good chance his words were true. Even dead, Lucifer still has some power.

I inspect her, assessing the damage. "Are you hurt? Tell me what hurts."

She doesn't have to tell me, because I notice what's wrong right away. Her arm is hanging at an unnatural angle, undoubtedly from her shoulder being knocked out of its socket. I know it must hurt like hell, but she doesn't let on. The adrenaline is probably dulling most of the agony.

"Fuck," I swear. "I can't take you to the hospital. Not like this. I have to get us cleaned up first."

"It's okay," she assures me weakly. She probably can't muster more words than that.

I'm scared of hurting her worse than she already is by helping her bathe. I don't like the look of that shoulder, but we can't walk into an ER covered in blood. She's wearing what's left of Thomas Critt, and the mess is drying to her face. I probably don't seem much better.

It'll break her if she catches a glimpse of herself, so I'm gonna try to avoid that.

We make our way back into the house, and I only stop to ask Romero where the bathroom is. As soon as we're in, I lock the door and angle her with her back to the mirror, asking her to keep her eyes on me. I don't want her to look. It'll only make things worse.

Helping her out of her clothes is hard. Watching the water run pink is harder. I have to stand outside the shower, letting it spray onto the floor while I gingerly run a sponge all over her body. She tries to pretend she's not crying, but I know she hasn't stopped and probably won't for a long time.

She's in so much pain and it makes me feel guilty. I wish I could take it from her.

I know we were both prepared for this to happen. I knew the plan, she knew the plan. Thomas was never going to leave Oregon alive and we were both sure of it. Even still, there's no way to prepare yourself for the loss of a sibling, and even if you hate that person, they're still a part of you.

Today will be painful all the way through. Physically and mentally. My only consolation is knowing, at the end of it, we're free to go. We'll get her arm fixed up. We'll move on. There's no more Purgatory for either of us. No more loyalty. No more being bossed around by the devil. I'm not a demon anymore. This nightmare has come to a close. This chapter of my life is said and done.

I have my girl, my hope. This is my shot at redemption and my shot at giving her the life she deserves, and I won't fuck that up for anything.

But, at this point, all I can do is help her move forward. We're both going to be screwed up after this, but she's resilient and so am I. As long as she has me, and I have her, the world can't be so bad after all.

"I love you," I remind her, as I help her out of the shower.

Her lips twitch. It's not a smile. It's not a substantive movement, but it's something. I'm hopeful because it means she's still in there somewhere. I don't want to lose her to her head, and I know that someone's history can be an ocean. I won't let her drown in it. There's too much ahead of us.

"I've got you," I remind her. "Always."

I wrap her in a towel gently, holding her close when I'm done. She lets out a deep breath, and I feel the warmth of it through my shirt. I know she wants to say something, so I wait for a few seconds. It takes a lot for her to speak up.

"Te amo," she finally murmurs.