This isn’t supposed to be happening. Annalisa’s not supposed to be here. She promised me she wouldn’t go anywhere near Tony. I made sure she knew how dangerous he is. I showed her the folder, gave her all the information about him, and still, she came. She must know who he is, what he’s done, because I can see all that hate she’s radiating toward him, and yet she’s still here. I wish she wasn’t. I was supposed to either win or die alone, leaving my friends out of it. Leaving them safe.

I slowly sit up, and the realization that I can helps clear more of the clouds in my mind.

Annalisa spits at him, hitting him right in the face. “Fuck you.” She manages to kick him and topples him off balance, but he’s faster. He grabs her, and in one swift motion grabs his gun, rears back his arm, and whacks her on the top of her head with it. She collapses onto the ground, unmoving. Blood seeps from her head.

I’m paralyzed. Time freezes around me as my heart stops.

Is she . . . ? No. No. Not Annalisa. Not because of me.

“You stupid bitch,” I hear that voice say, the one that haunts my nightmares. He’s on his feet now, pointing the gun at Annalisa, lying helplessly on the ground. “You’re not my daughter.”

There’s no time to think, but suddenly everything is so clear to me. I let what feels like a lifetime’s worth of fear and rage fuel me. I’ve wasted enough of my life scared of him. I’ve lost enough hours of sleep tossing and turning from nightmares. I’ve lost enough people I love because of him. This ends now.

With all the strength I can muster, I move the few feet to him and grab his leg, pulling it out from under him. The shot goes wide, somewhere in the trees, and he lands on his back. The bang makes my ears ring, but I don’t care, I barely acknowledge it. The need to end this for good is taking me over, rising from within me and consuming every fiber of my being.

I’m going to kill him. I need to kill him. I need him dead.

I look around for the gun and see it just a few feet away. It must’ve been knocked from his hand when he fell. I reach for it but a burning pain erupts from my leg, from the one Tony stabbed, almost in the same place he stabbed me the last time I encountered him. He’s got his hand on the wound and is pressing hard, making the pain feel brand new over and over again.

“Why won’t you just die already?” he growls, and I ignore his rhetorical question, trying to kick him away from me, to get his hand away from the blood oozing out of my leg.

The gun’s out of reach; it’s so close but so far. My leg’s on fire. I’ve been shot. Annalisa needs medical attention. I don’t want to die.