Kate doesn’t realize it’s coming, but suddenly she is thrown off of Drake’s back and smacks her head against the concrete floor. She doesn’t lose consciousness, and tries to sit up, but suddenly feels a biting sharp pain in her leg, accompanied by a loud gunshot. She screams and kicks with her other leg, connecting with Drake’s hand. They both scramble to get the gun, but she is there first, despite the horrible pain in her leg. Drake’s legs are still tied to the recliner and his range of motion is limited. Her hands are shaking, but she aims it at Drake’s head.
“Don’t kill me,” he pleads, taking the belt out of his mouth. “Please. Look, you’re bleeding. You could die. Get yourself to a hospital and I’ll leave and won’t say a word. Please.”
“I would be too easy to kill you and let you die so quickly,” she says. She stands up and puts her weight on the leg that wasn’t shot. She tentatively places some weight on the other leg and winces, but stays silent. She aims the gun and shoots Drake in the stomach, then readjusts her aim and shoots him in the crotch area. He is screaming. “In case I don’t succeed, at least you’ll never be able to fuck anyone again like you fucked me.”
*
I limp up the stairs to the garage and find the red can of gasoline that Devin had filled for the lawnmower. My hands are a bloody mix of Drake’s and my own but they are steady and sure. Then I wander around the house, still limping and begin to pour gasoline everywhere, throwing a generous amount down the basement stairs. Drake’s screams have died down, and perhaps he’s passed out from the pain. Or maybe he’s already dead. I bring the gasoline container back up and finish the last of it near the front door, and take a pack of matches out of my purse. I light one and throw it down and watch the flames explode into a trail behind me.
I sit down on my front lawn. The smoke is starting to pour out the door. I reach into my purse and pull out my phone and call Justin. “I’ve been shot,” I say, “And the house is on fire.”