I stood frozen in the doorway, my heart pounding in my chest as I watched in horror. Lucas's boot slammed into Peyton's fragile body over and over again. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. My plan had been so simple, so perfect. Peyton was supposed to be cast aside, tossed out like yesterday's trash. That's when I'd step in, the knight in shining armor, the one to save her from the cruel world that my brother had thrown her into.
But Lucas—God, Lucas was far more brutal than I had ever imagined. I never thought he'd take it this far, that he'd beat her with such viciousness. This was supposed to be my moment to swoop in, to offer Peyton the comfort she so desperately needed, to be the man who would finally make her feel loved and cared for. Instead, I stood there, paralyzed, as Lucas left her broken and barely conscious on the floor.
Finally, as Lucas stormed out of the room, rage still simmering, I forced myself to move. My feet felt like they were made of lead, but I pushed forward, crossing the room in a few hurried strides. When I reached Peyton's side, I dropped to my knees, my hands trembling as I gently lifted her head.
"Peyton," I whispered, my voice thick with panic and guilt. "Peyton, can you hear me?"
She didn't respond. Her eyes fluttered closed, her breaths shallow and uneven. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, and the sight of it twisted something deep inside me. The guilt was suffocating, wrapping around me like a vise. I never wanted this. I never wanted her to be hurt like this. All I wanted was for Lucas to send her away, to make her feel unwanted and unloved so that she would turn to me.
But I hadn't accounted for Lucas's sadistic streak.
"God, Peyton," I muttered, my voice cracking as I wiped the blood from her lips with trembling fingers. "I'm so sorry… I never meant for this to happen. Please, don't die. You can't die on me. I didn't—" The words caught in my throat, the reality of what I had done crashing down on me like a tidal wave.
I slipped my arms under her, lifting her as gently as I could. She was so light, so fragile in my arms, and the fear that I might already be too late gnawed at me with every passing second. I had to get her help, had to get her to a hospital. But as I carried her toward the door, a sickening thought wormed its way into my mind—if she died, it was on me. This was all my fault.
"Please, Peyton," I whispered, clutching her closer to my chest as I hurried to my car. "Stay with me. I'll make this right, I swear. I'll fix everything. Just stay with me."
I laid her carefully in the backseat, my hands still shaking as I arranged her head on a makeshift pillow of my jacket. She was slipping in and out of consciousness, her breaths shallow and ragged, and it filled me with a desperate, gnawing fear. I couldn't lose her—not like this.
As I sped down the road, tires screeching against the asphalt, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I ignored it at first, too focused on the road ahead and the dying woman in the backseat, but when it buzzed again, I fumbled for it with one hand, cursing under my breath.
The name on the screen made my blood run cold: Mom.
I hesitated for a moment, then pressed the phone to my ear. "Mom," I rasped, my voice barely steady. "Mom, something terrible has happened. Lucas… he—he hurt Peyton. I'm taking her to the hospital right now, but she's in bad shape. I don't know if she's going to—"
"Stop," Mom's voice cut through my rambling, cold and sharp. "Listen to me, Richard. You're not taking her to the hospital."
My heart skipped a beat, confusion and panic battling for dominance in my chest. "What? What do you mean? She needs help—she's bleeding, she's—"
"Richard!" Mom snapped, her tone icy. "Do you want to end up in jail? Do you want to ruin everything?"
"Jail?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "What are you talking about? I didn't do this—Lucas did! I'm just trying to save her—"
"If you take her to the hospital, they'll ask questions," Mom interrupted, her voice devoid of any warmth or concern. "They'll find out what happened, and do you really think Lucas will take the fall for this? No. They'll pin it on you, Richard. You'll be the one to pay for this. Do you understand?"
Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. "But… but she's dying," I stammered, my voice shaking. "I can't just—"
"You will do as I say," Mom ordered, her voice as cold and unyielding as stone. "You will drop her somewhere, anywhere, and you will walk away. I won't lift a finger to help you if you get tangled up in this mess. Do you understand me?"
My blood turned to ice. I stared at Peyton's fragile form in the rearview mirror, her chest rising and falling in shallow, painful breaths. Could I really do this? Could I just leave her to die, abandoned on the side of the road like she meant nothing?
But Mom's voice was relentless, the weight of her words pressing down on me, suffocating me. I had seen firsthand what she was capable of when her back was against the wall, how far she would go to protect herself and the family's reputation. And Lucas… Lucas would never admit to what he had done. I would be the scapegoat, the one left holding the bag while my brother got off scot-free.
"Richard, you listen to me," Mom's voice broke through my thoughts, sharp and commanding. "This is the only way. Do it now, before it's too late."
My hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turned white, my heart pounding in my chest like a drum. How had everything gone so wrong? I had never wanted this… never wanted to hurt her. But now, there was no turning back. The reality of my situation hit me hard, the weight of my guilt threatening to crush me.
I had wanted to save her, to be the hero in her story. But now, I was about to become the villain.
I swallowed hard, my throat tight with fear and guilt as I nodded, even though Mom couldn't see me. "Okay," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Okay, I'll do it."
But as I hung up the phone, my hands shaking uncontrollably, I realized that no matter what I did, there was no saving Peyton… and there was no saving me.