November Sky---First Chapter

Introduction

Everything I’ve ever done, I did for her.

Chapter 1

The Shot

November 6, 2018 — Bethesda, Maryland

 My chest sears, a fiery jolt tearing through me as blood soaks my shirt, gushing out of me as if God himself is pouring a glass of wine from deep within my soul. Years of buried pain flow out with it, like branches and twigs swept away in the stream.

“No!” Tara screams, her voice cracking with horror as she crawls over the shards of glass scattered across the front seat of the SUV. She throws herself on top of me, shielding my wounded body from any more gunfire.

Her breath, minty and sweet, drifts across my face, a fleeting comfort amid the chaos this single bullet has unleashed. “Somebody help! My husband’s been shot!” Her cry stabs at my eardrums, almost as sharp as the bullet that just ripped through my flesh. A cool fall breeze slips through the shattered windshield, drying the sweat beaded across my forehead.

“Stay with me, Jack." She presses her palms against my wound with fierce desperation. The world slows, my senses somehow sharpening through the haze. Sirens grow louder, rushing closer. Crimson red stains her hands, filling in the tiny creases of her knuckles, matching her nail polish, a fitting image under the circumstances.

Tears spill from Tara’s eyes, splashing my face like heavy rain. Panic and fear cloud her gaze as dark lines of mascara streak down her cheeks. “Please, Jack, keep your eyes open. I can’t lose you. I need you. Stay with me. Help is here. Please…”

My limbs sag, heavy as lead against the car’s leather seat, my pulse a faint whisper fading into the night. I’m as light as a feather, my tortured spirit hovering over me, watching everything unfold, searching for a place to go.

The warmth of my blood clashes with the chill in my hands and feet—a strange paradox. In fact, that’s what my entire life has always been, a swinging pendulum of pure joy and absolute dread, often making it difficult to tell where one begins and the other ends.

“I know what you did,” I whisper, struggling through labored gasps. Pressure builds in my lungs, like a balloon inflating against my ribcage.

“What do you know?” Tara asks, her voice edged with fear as she steps out of the vehicle, locking eyes with mine. Her throat tightens with a hard swallow, curiosity gripping her as paramedics yank me from the driver’s seat and hoist me onto a stretcher.

Tara’s pleas, raw with despair, break the fragile calm of what could be my final moments. I’m thankful for every breath I take, as shallow as they may be, all while coming to terms with the fact that the next one could be my last.

“What are you talking about, Jack?” 

“I know what you did, Tara,” each word a steep climb to the next. “I know what you did.”

My eyes move past her to the stars shining above, offering tiny rays of light in the darkness of the vast November sky.  If this is the end, I’m finally at peace, as if the blood spilling out has washed away the pain I’ve carried through this tangled web my life has become.

The faint beat of my heart taps at my chest, slowing to a snail's pace, ready to give out any second. I take one final look up to the heavens, millions of miles away, yet suddenly so close. Then shut my eyes, perhaps for the final time, picture her face, and drift somewhere between life and death.

How did I get here?