I back up another step.
David is speaking, talking about getting rid of me, how he can't allow my theft. He doesn't understand, and that is okay. There isn't time to argue or distract.
David's eyes gleam fiercely, and underneath the fury and betrayal, I see a hint of his madness. He raises his gun, and I tense my muscles, about to spring towards the box when suddenly something slams into my side, sending me flying.
BANG.
Pain explodes in my chest and I slam into the counter, crumple to the ground. My head cracks against the floor, the force of it sending waves of bile into my throat, black spots swimming in front of my eyes.
BANG.
The gun goes off again, and I remember. The box. The serum. The code.
I can hear Caleb repeating the code over and over and over, and I pull myself up against the counter. Each movement sends shockwaves of agony through my chest and body. I gasp under its weight, my vision blurring black.
Focus! I scream. I punch the sequence into the box. What comes next?
The button. The green button. I slam my hand into the green button, and it's done. I slump to the floor, the sounds of struggle behind me bringing me back to my surroundings. I turn, huddled against the counter and see two figures grappling. The gun glints between their hands.
I can't see who it is. My vision is blurring, narrowing, blackness working its way in. I struggle to focus through the pain, block out each wave of pain that flows over me with every breath. My palm slaps against the floor, and I pull myself towards David and the figure.
BANG.
The gun goes off again, and my ears are ringing with the echoes of it throughout the tiny room.
David is slumped in his chair, and the figure gasps, falling back toward the ground.
I recognise that face. I recognise that hair. I recognise him.
No.
Gritting my teeth, I drag my body towards the man sprawled on the ground, gasping with each breath. Blood is pooling underneath him and I drag myself through it, my hands sliding through its warmth.
Every breath I take is like being stabbed over and over and over, but I have to touch him, I have to hold him. This can't be happening.
I cup his face in my hands, and his hand reaches out for me. His eyes. His nose. His mouth. I know each feature.
No. No.
"No!" I gasp, staring into his face. His hand trails through my hair. I grab his hand in mine, clutching tightly.
"Beatrice."
"Caleb." The word comes out a sob. "Caleb, why are you here? Where are you hurt?" Frantically, I run my hands over his neck and chest. My fingers find a bullet hole in his shirt, and I press the heel of my palm to the open wound, trying to stop the blood. So much blood.
"Beatrice," he gasps, "Forgive me."
"I have. I did." Tears are streaming down my face, mixing with his blood, my blood, the black dots. I struggle to focus on his face. "Caleb, you can't sacrifice yourself out of guilt. It doesn't work like that." Anger and grief pour through me, as his blood pours through my fingers.
"I'm not. It's…you." His words are broken by his breaths, coming shallower. His eyes lose focus, re-focus on me. "For you," he coughs, and blood bubbles, coating his lips.
I gather him closer, sobbing and rocking. "Caleb no. No, you can't leave me."
"I'm not…leaving," his voice is a whisper, and I lean into him to hear him. "Beatrice…with you. I love you." His breath goes silent and his mouth slackens.
I shake him, even as my vision narrows. Blackness is seeping over me, and my limbs feel heavy. Pain is stabbing through my chest, my head, my body. It is too much. It hurts too much.
"Caleb," I gasp, "Caleb!" and I succumb to the dark.