I need that gun. I don’t have the strength in me to overpower Tony by myself. I need a weapon, and there’s one sitting there, taunting me, just a few feet out of reach.

I stretch my body as much as I can, still kicking at Tony with whatever strength I have, ignoring the burn of my thigh, of my chest, focusing only on my fingertips, which might as well be miles away from the gun. As I reach, something slips out of my sweater, dangling from around my neck.

My necklace.

Aiden.

I stop struggling against Tony and reaching for the gun, and instead rip my necklace from my neck. As if I’ve done it a million times, I click the button that releases the switchblade, lean over, and stab Tony right in the throat. It’s not a big blade, but it’s sharp and pierces right through.

His eyes widen and he releases his grip on my leg, letting my breath come a bit easier now that the pressure’s let up. Aiden’s not even here and he’s still saving me. I scramble away from Tony and toward the gun, and he’s on his feet, hovering over me, the small blade still in his throat, the chain dangling down his neck in the direction of a small stream of blood coming from the wound. It wasn’t big enough to kill, but was big enough to hurt him, to distract him, to give me time to get away. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I register cars crunching on the asphalt, but right now I’m focused on Tony. He reaches out to me, his face screwed up in fury as I grab the gun, look him right in the eye, and shoot him in the chest. I pull the trigger two more times. Then a third.

He stops in his tracks and it’s like time is paused, as he’s suspended there, our gazes clashing, until he collapses in a heap, unmoving. I release a shaky exhale and drop the gun with equally shaky hands, as if I just realized it was me who pulled the trigger, me who stopped Tony in his tracks, me who created the pool of blood slowly forming around Tony’s body. It’s huge, much larger than the one from my leg or from my side. I’m too busy trying to breathe to actually make sense of anything that’s going on.

Annalisa’s still lying on the ground, her eyes closed and face serene, almost like she’s taking a nap. I use the last of my adrenaline to crawl over to her and collapse on my back beside her.

The sounds of cars are louder now. I find Annalisa’s hand on the ground and grasp it in mine without looking at her. She came for me. She may have been mad at me, she may have thought the worst of me, but in the end, she had my back. She saved me from Tony’s killing blow. I’d be dead if not for her.