The sound of footsteps startled me but didn’t wake me. I wasn’t asleep. I sat up in the bed as soon as I heard the sound of feet moving through the house. I reached for the light on the nightstand. I knew he’d come. I hadn’t turned the alarm on all week, anticipating seeing him again.
When the light hit the room I saw the surprised look on his face. If it weren’t for the baby inside of me things might have gone differently. I might not have held out the hope of survival. Maybe I wouldn’t have prepared myself to go to these lengths.
Once he saw me he began to cry. “How could you do this to me? You took everything from me. My life is over. I kept my end of the deal. I left you alone,” Priest said.
“You told my fiancé everything. You told him what I did and he left me.”
“What are you talking about? I did not,” he said, almost whining.
“Why lie about it Priest? You’ve done enough lying to last a lifetime I’d think.”
“I’m not lying. If I was going to tell I would have done it the day I saw you downtown. I’ve been overseas since the day after that. I was in town to take pictures at the Capitol with the other players who were on the U.S. National Team. We left the next day. I just came home this morning. I couldn’t have done it.”
I was puzzled at what he was saying. I did remember the sportscaster saying that he was unavailable for comment. He went on, “I was playing in a tournament when the story broke. Then I come home to this.” His voice was trailing off. “I come home to you ruining my life, my marriage, my career.”
My body began to get cold. I believed him. I had always been good at reading someone’s body language and Priest was being straightforward. I sucked in air and tried to stay calm. He was sweating as he began to ramble on and on about his family and his career.
Speaking just below a yell he said, “What am I supposed to do now? You tell me that.” He began to ramble. This made me nervous in light of the fact that he’d come to kill me. The gun he held in his hand and the black gloves he wore were a dead giveaway of his intentions.
“Stay calm and don’t lift that,” I said. “I swear I will use this.” The Smith & Wesson that I had been aiming at his face since the second he walked into my bedroom had kept him steady up to that point. I’d purchased the gun years back and I knew how to use it. I’d learned a long time ago that there were some situations where pepper spray just wouldn’t get the job done.
“So you gonna kill me?” he chuckled in a tone of disbelief. I don’t think he doubted for a second that I would pull the trigger. I did think that he was having a hard time accepting that his revenge would not come to pass.
“I don’t want to but…” I stopped when we both heard the front door shut. “Who’s with you? Is your boyfriend with you?”
“I’m alone,” he said in a panicked tone. When I heard the voice my heart began to beat again.
I heard the familiar pattern of Khalil’s feet moving quickly up the stairs. I couldn’t believe that he had come home. He turned the corner and saw Priest standing there with the gun in his hand.
I wanted to scream out that I had it under control but Khalil’s eyes lit up with anger and he rushed toward Priest. He didn’t move quickly enough and I watched as Priest lifted the weapon and fired three shots. They all hit Khalil.
I wanted to scream; instead I aimed for Priest, who looked surprised at what he’d done. By the time he faced me I was squeezing the trigger. I lost track of how many times I fired, but I didn’t stop until he slid down the wall as the crimson blood began to pour from the holes I’d put in him.
“Oh God no,” I yelled out. I ran and stepped over Priest to Khalil. “Baby, please. Don’t die. Don’t die,” I kept repeating.
I was a flash as I ran for the phone to call 911. As I ran down to unlock the door and the gate, he was still breathing. When I got back to him, he wasn’t.