callan
Sakura sat at the foot of my bed with a knife in her shaky hand. I blinked my eyes open a couple of times, adjusting to the light as pain shot through my body. I thought I was seeing things in a dream—or a nightmare.
What is she doing with a kitchen knife?
I squeezed my eyes closed, then reopened them.
She still sat there, gripping the knife even harder until her knuckles were white. “I have to do it. I have to do it. I have to do it,” she muttered to herself.
I gazed past her to see Georgina bound to a chair across from us, her wrists, ankles, neck, and waist tied tightly to the chair with thick rope, hose, and wire. She bled from a huge gash in her head and was covered with glass.
What the fuck is happening?
Maybe I had lost too much blood and was hallucinating. The last thing I remembered was seeing stars and falling into the pool. And my torso hurt like a motherfucker from those damn stab wounds.
Sakura stood up and stepped toward Georgina.
“Get away from me!” Georgina screamed. “You’re psychotic.”
My head pounded in agony. If this were a dream, she’d be fucking mute. I used all my strength to push myself to a seated position, wincing. Sakura took another step toward my wife, the knife trembling in her small hand.
“Why do you have a knife?” I whispered, voice hoarse.
Sakura jumped up and snapped her gaze to me, eyes growing wide. “Callan … y-you’re alive!” She dropped the knife and ran over to my bedside, throwing her arms around my shoulders and pulling me closer. “You’re alive!” she cried.
I stiffened as pain flooded through me.
Sakura immediately pulled away from me. “Sorry!”
“Of course I’m alive,” I murmured, the pain slowly fading. I glanced down at the bandages covering my stab wounds to keep them closed. “Did you think you’d get rid of me that easily?” I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.
“It’s not funny. You almost died,” she said, standing at my side and capturing my hand.
“I already told you, Sakura, I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered. “You’re mine.”
Tears welled in Sakura’s eyes, threatening to spill over. When she blinked, a stray tear rolled down her cheek.
“Callan!” Georgina screamed. “Are you serious? Get me out of here!”
I wiped it away with my thumb. “Don’t cry for me.”
“I-I love you,” Sakura sobbed, sniffling. “I thought you were dead. It’s so selfish, b-but it hurt so m-much.” She sat at the edge of the bed and gently brushed her fingers against my palm, shaking her head. “I can’t lose you.”
“Callan!” Georgina shouted, like the bitch she was.
Sakura set her hand on my stomach and stood up yet again, glancing at the knife that had clattered onto the ground near Georgina. She walked over to it, her shoulders trembling back and forth while she continued to sob.
“She pushed you,” Sakura cried, grabbing the knife from the floor.
“She didn’t push me,” I said softly, not defending Georgina, but not wanting Sakura to feel like she had to hurt anyone for me. It already looked like she had hit Georgina with something and then tied her up to one of my dining chairs. “I fell into the pool.”
“She deserves to die,” she whispered, pain in every word. “She deserves to die.”
“She does”—I pushed myself up the bed even more—“but you don’t have to do it.”
“I need to,” she said, back turned. “I need to do it for you.”
“Come here.”
Sakura stood in front of Georgina, not moving toward me or toward her. I couldn’t see her face, but by the mere way she stood, she didn’t want to hurt anyone else. She couldn’t kill Georgina without feeling guilty for it.
Sakura Sato was a good girl. My good girl.
I didn’t want her to think she had to kill anyone for me.
“Come here,” I whispered again. “Please, Sakura.”
Sakura glanced over her shoulder at me, her brows drawn together and her lips quivering. Yet she walked over to me with the knife.
I placed my hand over hers. “No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do,” she sobbed. “I love you, and she … she’s hurt you.”
“You’re not a killer,” I whispered, pulling the weapon from her hand.
“Sometimes, you have to be to prove that you love someone.”
“I believe that you love me,” I said.
She stared at me with tearful eyes. I have to, she mouthed.
“If you want to prove something to someone”—I wrapped my hand into her hair and pulled her closer to me—“come here.”
And then I kissed the woman I loved in front of my wife.