Episode 2
1027 Words
Naomi's POV
Run? The words didn't reach my head. Every nerve in my body that wasn't screaming in fear was screaming his name.
Running wasn't something my legs knew how to do at that moment.
"Ben." I pressed my hand against his chest, feeling the warmth of his blood seep between my fingers. "Ben, look at me. Look at me."
His eyes found mine. "Mom," he called slowly.
I grabbed my phone with my free hand and dialed 911. It rang once. "911, what's your emergency?"
"My son has been shot." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "I need an ambulance. 14 Harrington Close. Please hurry."
"Ma'am, I need you to stay calm. Help is on the way. Is your son conscious?"
"Yes. Yes he's conscious." I looked at Ben. "Stay with me. You hear me? Stay with me."
Ben's hand found my wrist. "Mom." His voice was barely audible. "There's a killer. Run!"
"I'm not leaving you—"
"Mom. Run."
Something made me look up. I saw the gun first, my heart cut as I looked at the man. He was on black, wearing a black mask.
My blood went cold. "Ma'am? Ma'am are you still there?"
I didn't answer. I set the phone face up on the floor, 911 still connected, and I got to my feet.
He saw me stand. He paused. Just for a second, like he hadn't expected that.
I didn't give him another second. I grabbed the lamp off the side table and threw it at him.
He dodged it but it bought me steps. I closed the distance before he recovered, grabbing his arm as he raised the gun.
We struggled for the gun. He was stronger, much stronger. He twisted my wrist so hard I gasped, the pain shooting straight up my arm. But I didn't let go. I couldn't let go.
"Mom." Ben's voice drifted from the floor behind me. "I'm dying."
The words hit me like a second bullet. I bit down on the killer's hand.
He cursed, the first sound he'd made, and the gun shifted just enough, before he pressed the trigger.
The impact spun me sideways. The bullet hit my shoulder.
I heard myself cry out before I even registered the sound was mine.
I hit the wall. He came at me again.
My eyes landed on the vase. My mother's vase. The one I'd had for twenty years sitting on the accent table by the stairs.
I grabbed it as he reached for me. I swung the vase straight at his head.
The crack was sickening. He dropped like his strings had been cut, face first onto the floor and didn't move.
I stood there for a second. Just breathing. My shoulder was soaked with my blood.
My whole left side felt wrong, heavy, like something had been unplugged. "Mom." Ben again.
I turned, he was still on the floor, his eyes on me, his chest barely moving. I dropped to my knees beside him and took his face in my good hand.
"I'm here." My voice broke. "I'm right here. Help is coming. You hear the sirens? They're coming."
He blinked slowly. "Mom."
"Don't." I shook my head. "Don't you dare. You don't get to leave me."
His lips moved but nothing came out.
Outside, I heard the sirens, before seeing the red and blue light.
I turned to the killer still face down on the floor. Something in me wouldn't let it go. Wouldn't let me pass out without knowing.
I crawled to him. Every movement sent fire through my shoulder. I grabbed the edge of his mask with fingers that were barely working and pulled it off.
A face I didn't know stared back at me. But I marked every angle of his face to memory.
Then the front door burst open, I saw them as they reached for me. "Ma'am. Ma'am can you hear me?"
I tried to answer. "Save my son," I pointed slowly at Ben before my head hit the floor, passing out immediately.
When I awoke, the first thing I noticed was the hospital bed, the sound of the beeping machine and a figure sitting beside me on the bed.
I looked up slowly at the male figure, his face above me was blurred at first. His lips were moving but I couldn't hear a thing he was saying.
Then my vision cleared and Allen's face came to view.
My body reacted before my mind caught up with anything, flinching in fear, pulling back, and twisting the sheets in my fists.
"Hey. Hey, Naomi." His voice cut through the fear, bringing me out of my haze. "It's Raphael. You're alright."
I blinked hard. The face became clearer. It wasn't Allen, it was actually Raphael, Allen's step brother.
He hadn't changed much in seven years, except for the little grey at the sides of his beard and head. His eyes were brown, warm, the same eyes I remembered from when I was a kid.
He looked tired, like he'd come straight from somewhere without stopping. He was tall, with broad shoulders, wearing a dark jacket that looked slept in.
I hadn't seen him in seven years. Not since my father's funeral, when Allen made it clear there was no room for him in our lives anymore.
"What are you doing here?" I said but my voice was hoarse. "And where is my son?"
"I was notified the moment your name came up. With your father's estate, anything involving you reaches my desk fast." He paused, studying me carefully, like he was checking I was actually present behind my eyes. "I came as soon as I heard."
I tried to nod. My shoulder screamed in protest. "Is Ben alright?" I asked again.
"The doctors are taking care of him. I'd take you to him as soon as you have your strength back," Raphael assured, his hand softly resting on my arm.
I almost smiled, but I sighed in relief instead.
Raphael straightened. "By the way, I need to call Allen."
The monitor beside me spiked. A sharp, frantic beep.
My heart started racing so fast.
- Writer
