Destroying Love

Twenty-eight

I push him away.

No. I can't fail. Not now, not ever.

I need to focus. I can't continue like that, not when I could lose everything again.

I had nothing to lose.

Now, Brandon is back.

It feels like I have something again. And as much as I tried to stay away, he's still here now, standing in my apartment, and I could lose him any time.

It can't happen.

Shaking my head furiously, I watch as Brandon looks at me with a confused expression, his lips still parted.

"I—I can't. I shouldn't have let that happen. Damn it!" I run my hands through my hair, looking around me. Swallowing, I glance at him again. "I'm sorry. I just... can't. I can't do that to you. And me."

He nods, blinking once. I watch as he takes slow steps towards me. I tense.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," he says, raising his hands.

"I'm not afraid of you hurting me," I murmur, meeting his eyes. At least, not physically. "This isn't about this. It's—"

"Shh," he cuts me off, shaking his head. "I get it."

He doesn't.

He really doesn't if the next thing he does is getting closer, and then, as if it's not enough, pressing his lips on my forehead in such a delicate way I find it hard to breathe.

To focus.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he says then, taking a step back and turning around.

I don't move as he walks toward the front door. He's about to open it when there's an explosion.

It's hard to process. The front door explodes, and I cover my head in shock, kneeling down. I look up and my eyes widen.

Brandon is laying down in the hallway, and he raises his head towards the door, confused. Through the smoke, I see a man standing there, a gun in his hand and a knife in his other one. He glances at Brandon.

"Brandon!"

The man gets a grip on Brandon's collar and gets him on his two feet before pressing the knife against his neck.

I run across the room and drop on my knees, grabbing my gun from the floor, then aim it at the man.

"Doesn't it feel familiar?" The man smiles, holding the knife against Brandon's neck while having a gun pressed on the back of his head at the same time.

The man applies pressure, and the knife starts to move on his neck. My hand begins to shake. Brandon gives me a warning look.

"Don't miss," he grumbles, his face contorting in slight pain.

"I won't." I clench my jaw and shoot the man twice.

The bullets meet the man's shoulder, and he screams in agony just as Brandon turns around to knock him off.

I drop the gun and raise from my knees just as Brandon comes to my side.

"You okay?" he asks worriedly, and I look at him in disbelief.

"You're the one who almost got his throat sliced or a bullet in the head and you're asking if I'm okay?" I take a deep breath and look him in the eyes. "Are you?"