GUN IN MY HAND

CHAPTER 50: COLOR OF HOPE

'Now I see the flashing lights

There goes my future and my life

Now I've gotta do what's right'

*SPENCER'S POV*

Douglas Thornton was dead.

I'd felt the nothingness of his pulse under my hand, heard the silence coming out of his parted lips, smelled the blood dripping out of his chest, and seen the lifeless look in his eyes. 

Yet I fully took in the fact when I stepped into the bustling parking lot, as if death only sank in when you saw it reflecting on the living around. The flashing blue lights dancing on people's figures more hauntingly than ghosts, the frantic movements of policemen as if they were trying to fight the stillness of death, the darkness that made the dogs look like wolves, the ambulance, which was surely for the poor passed-out girl, the blankness of Mr. Thornton's face, and the wailing cries of his wife.

Douglas's parents were there already? How long had we stayed in those tunnels?

I guessed from the falling night it had been around ten minutes, although it felt like three seconds since I'd entered the bar with a gun in my hand and a consuming determination.

What had I even planned to do? I hadn't planned; that was the thing. I'd been fuming with rage, brewing over every piece of advice I'd been told by everyone and searching for the only one that would have known what to do. But looking through Mom's things, I'd come across Dad's safe. Then, I'd touched the gun, and the rest was all a blur.

Would I really have taken Blade's life? My shaky hands didn't feel as confident in this parking lot filled with police cars, gangsters, and Death, and yet, I had led to this in some way.

Now, I had to do what was right.

Glancing one last time at the woods behind me, I took a deep breath and advanced toward the scene. I tried to be fast, but not too fast, although it was hard to tell between the erratic beats of my heart and the heaviness that made each step harder to take, and it was without even taking into account the nerve-wracking sounds from everywhere around that rushed the adrenaline faster in my veins and the moving shadows in my peripheral vision freezing my blood.

I didn't even know how I was still walking steadily, but my only point of reference was ahead, the minty green of my car, the same color as the sparks in Dorothy's eyes when she burst out laughing, a shade I hadn't seen in one month. It appeared within reach again. I just had to get out of here.

Luckily, I had parked on the far end of the parking lot, and there weren't many street lamps on this side of Subrose. Then, I would go back home, and it would be easy. I would get the gun like I'd used to take toys we'd exchanged in our hidey-hole, and I would see that shade in Dorothy's eyes. Now that she believed me, it would be alright.

Everything appeared within reach: my car key, a breath, hope...

"Spencer?!"

I'd almost believed it for a second, almost touched that green, but the hope slipped from my grasp like the key from my hand and the air from my freezing lungs, and I didn't get to catch any that I was spun around, colliding against a large figure.

I couldn't even fight it, my muscles relaxing in the familiar warmth and my eyes closing while the breath I took in smelled like citrus, coffee, and home.