Falling With Grace

Oh my god.

Would he smother me? Was I not dying fast enough?

The lid popped off, and I bolted to my feet. Javier tucked his hands under my armpits and lifted.

My shoulder throbbed as my feet grazed the top of the barrel.

“Oof.”

The cold, hard cement created a dull thud on impact.

My rib screamed, the air knocked from my lungs as I hacked up inhaled liquid.

“Get up.” Javier nudged me in the hip with his shoe, his phone pressed to his ear.

I grunted—the words unable to form from my burning throat. I rolled to my knees and hacked some more, holding my ribcage.

“I said get up.”

Javier’s boot hit my thigh, knocking my knee out from under me. My face dropped to the floor, and my cheek scraped against the rough cement, adding to the overwhelming amount of bruising and cuts.

Warmth curled over my temple and into my eyebrow.

Shit.

Blood dripped onto thewet cement, my stitches opened.

I let out another barking cough and stood to my feet, my palm pressed to my hairline.

Javier turned to the man standing back and watching. “Get a blanket from downstairs.”

The man bared his teeth in a snarl before disappearing into the hatch, then reemerging a few moments later, tossing the blanket to Javier.

He kept his distance as Javier wrapped the blanket around my shoulders, his behavior a whiplash I didn’t need.

I pulled my palm away from my stitches and stared at the small blood stain in the center of my hand as he led me to the vehicle we’d arrived in. “I don’t understand what’s happening. Why aren’t I dead?”

Javier opened the door and shoved me inside.

I turned on him. “What’s going on?”

The door slammed in my face.

My body trembled as he pointed to each man and then a vehicle.

Where was the boss?

I glanced around the car, looking out through each window.

He’s not here.

Is that why they let me out?

I slid across the seat and pulled on the handle.

Nothing.

I pulled again and again, desperation clawing at my insides, my fingers slicked with blood and now coating the handle.