Save You
…ooo000O000ooo…
"So this is it," Isabel sneered. "Little Amy and Baby Dan, all grown up alone. No one to save them. No one to care for them. No one to love them."
Amy let a strangled sop escape her pale lips as she took in the broken, bloody, lifeless body of Nellie lying motionless on the floor. She and Dan had just returned from the closest Krispy Kreme, each holding a box of donuts, and that's all they found. That, and the three Kabras standing around the room as though nothing were amiss.
"I remember you and those ah-dorable koala pyjamas, Amy," Isabel continued with a casual air, acting for all the world like it was normal to point a gun at people. She sounded like a teenaged school girl discussing her favourite brand of lip gloss. She was painfully callous, in a way that made Amy want to plunge a knife through her stomach and twist it around like a fork twisting spaghetti. "Nothing would have happened, you know, but then you had to come running in, giving me all the proof I needed." Lie. She would have done it no matter what. Start the fire, end her parent's lives. But even though she knew she wasn't to blame, she still felt the pain, the guilt. "And now, I'm going to let you watch your little brother die. Let's see how you react when another person member dies because of you." She slowly undid the safety lock on the gun and aimed carefully at Dan's heart.
"No!" Amy and Dan screamed in unison, and Amy stepped protectively in front of Dan.
"Amy, don't believe her! She's lying!" Dan shouted. "Mom and Dad didn't die because of you! It wasn't your fault! And if I die now, it still won't be!"
Amy sobbed again, ignoring Dan's words as she fervently searched the room for any means of escape. Her eyes roamed around wildly, quickly glancing at Ian who was watching her with a forced expression of mild interest and curiosity. But in that one second that their eyes made contact, Ian's façade slipped, showing Amy the same fear she felt. Realizing his mistake, he hardened his heart and looked at his mother stoically, placing his uncaring mask back on.
Amy gave up hope and resigned to the fact that it would all end there. Everything. It was that notoriously clichéd moment before death, where you see your life flash before your eyes, and everything falls into place. She finally understood why Grace kept this from them, why Madrigals had to keep any one branch from finding all the clues, and why her parents had to die. For the clues. The clues that made one power-hungry. The clues that destroyed everything.
Isabel grinned in a shameless way as she stepped forward and dramatically pulled the trigger.
…ooo000O000ooo…
I watched in horror as Amy crumpled to the floor, her eyes wide with shock. No. She can't die. She can't. She still has a life ahead of her. She and her brother would go home to Boston, victors of the 39 Clues. She would go to college and become the valedictorian. She would meet someone there, someone kind and gentle and honest. Someone she would love with all her heart, and someone who would love her in return. Someone who wouldn't hurt her like I hurt her. She would marry that person, and have kids with him. She would then spend the rest of her perfect life with them, never having to look back. She would eventually die the happiest person on earth.
All was silent in the room, save for Amy's screaming. Dan was just staring at her, watching but not believing. I heard someone retching behind me, and I turned to see Natalie puking on the floor. I didn't blame her. I wanted to do the exact same thing, but I was too numb to do so.
A metallic click reached my ears. I've heard that sound almost all my life, and I knew it like my own heartbeat. It was the sound of Isabel reloading her gun. I was attuned to it; the way Isabel did it made it seem like a harmless sound, something one wouldn't mind it until it was too late. Most people didn't mind it until it was too late.
And I was sure of Isabel's next target.
"No!" I yelled, knocking her over and trying to pry the gun from her iron grip. The noise jolted Dan out from his blank stare. He helped me, jumping into the violent scuffle with a war-like scream.
The three of us—Dan, Isabel, and I—fought over the gun. It seemed like hours of jostling, punching, and kicking, but in reality it was only a few moments. Soon, I held the cold weapon in my hands. I got up and pointed it at Isabel.
"Go on," she sneered in that ugly way of hers. Her face was sweaty and bloody—I didn't know whose blood that was, nor did I care. "Shoot me. Do it. Or are you too much of a wimp to even do that?"
No, I was not. I would show her. The temptation was appealing; I'd kill her, like she tried to kill Amy, and she wouldn't think me a wimp ever again.
"Don't," a raspy voice croaked.
Dan and I whipped our heads towards Amy. She was even more pale than she previously was, and bleeding heavily. The crimson liquid permeated her shirt, but I could see that the bullet didn't hit her heart, just a millimeter below it. "Ian, don't," she repeated, pushing herself up with her arms, but they betrayed her and gave way. She squeezed her eyes shut at the impact of her body and the cold floor.
"Yes, Ian, don't," Isabel mimicked. I hated her voice, and for a second in time, I believed I would have actually shot her. I wanted to. I was about to just ignore Amy, but the sight of her trying to stop me was burned too deep into my mind.
Grinning like the mad woman that she was, Isabel stood up, wiped away the blood from her face, and pulled out yet another gun from her pocket. Her grin began to turn terrorizing, devastating yet beautiful, and she aimed the gun at Dan. Amy, watching from the floor, screamed.
But before she could pull the trigger, her eyes rolled back into her head, and she collapsed unceremoniously into a heap on the floor. Natalie stood behind her, holding a broken glass ash tray in her hand, and tears streaming down her face. I felt sorry for my sister, having to watch her own mother kill someone right in front of her, but I forgot all my pity once Amy let out a shrill scream.
"Amy," I gasped, rushing toward the dying girl on the floor. I vaguely heard Natalie hand Dan her mobile phone—something about the police. Everything around me was blurred except for the young redhead I now cradled in my arms.
I could see that her breathing was laboured, and I knew that one of her next breaths would be her last. I knew that it was too late for anyone to save her. I knew she was dying, here in my arms, and I somehow knew that it was my fault. "Hey, Ian," she said weakly.
I hurriedly shushed her. "Don't talk. Just try to stay awake." It was a vain hope, but I wanted to think that, somehow, she still could be saved. She sighed, closing her eyes. I could tell that she guessed that nothing could help her now, nothing short of a miracle. Tears streamed down my face—a Kabra first—as I acknowledged the face that she would die, and I'd never see her smiling again. I'd never get to talk to her like a normal person. I'd never get to listen to her laugh. I'd never get to kiss her again.
Her eyes flew open as she looked at me. I thought she could read my thoughts when she said, "Kiss me."
I stared at her with a hope that her face would be burned into my mind along with all other thoughts of her. "I should have saved you," I sobbed.
She chuckled, growing paler and paler by the second. I held on to her tighter as if that would hold her soul down to her body. "Funny how we think alike."
I don't know what she meant by that, so I pushed it aside for later. Time was running out. I owed Amy this.
I cried as I gave her final kiss.
…ooo000O000ooo…
"Ian Kabra!" an oddly familiar voice shouted from behind me. I turned around and spotted Dan Cahill, now nineteen years old, glaring at me as he walked in my direction.
"What do you want?" I asked apprehensively. Surely, he must have seen that I regretted any action I ever made against them? I had helped him escape, after all. But he had every right to hate me. I just stood there and watched as my mother killed his sister.
Amy.
Not a day goes by that I wish I'd done something—anything—to save her. But I hadn't, and she died as a result of my actions, leaving me to drown in my guilt. Maybe I hadn't loved her, maybe I had. The point is, now I'll never get the chance to find out.
When she looked at me, I saw her eyes searching for help. No, not looking—begging, screaming, yearning for an escape. Then she gave up hope, like she knew right then that she was going to die. I couldn't look any longer, so I turned towards my mother and imitated her careless personality. I regretted my actions a minute later, but a minute was already too late.
"I know you don't deserve this," Dan said loudly, cutting through my thoughts, "but I think that Amy would have liked you to have this." He roughly shoved an envelope in my hands that was addressed to me, worn and yellow with age. I read the warning written in bold black ink on the back of the envelope.
FOR IAN KABRA'S EYES ONLY!
"Thanks," I murmured, nodding in his direction, but he already left.
I was about to tear open the flap, curious to see what was written inside that was important enough to make Dan approach me, but I was interrupted by a shout in the distance.
I clenched my fist, consequently crumpling the envelope even further. I could not read this here. If it were indeed written by Amy, my emotions would undoubtedly get the better of me, and I could not afford people seeing the spectacle of the great Ian Kabra losing his composure in the middle of a park. I sighed as I made my way home, cutting my walk short.
…ooo000O000ooo…
I eyed the envelope sitting on my desk. I was crumpled yet unopened, as if Dan had held it in his hands but never took a peek. I slowly tore at the flap, sliding out the neatly folded letter inside on to my waiting hands.
Dear Ian, it read.
Dear Ian,
I don't know why I'm writing to you when I know there's little chance that you'd ever read this, but whatever. I just—I have a feeling that something's going to happen soon, something big and life changing, and I feel like this is my last chance to say everything I think about us.
When I first met you, I thought you were a pompous British brat. Of course, that was before the Clue Hunt and before you tried to kill me, and so my later opinion of you is much worse.
It was at one of Grace's get-togethers. As usual, I was in the library, hiding behind a bookshelf, when you entered with Natalie. Both of you were complaining about how nothing was up to Kabra standards, and that Grace and Beatrice were great old hags. I wouldn't have minded if it was just about Beatrice, because I agree with you on that matter, but Grace was not a hag.
I stepped out from behind the bookshelf with the intention of shouting at you for insulting Grace, but I hadn't counted on actually having to talk to you. You, who always managed to look like a supermodel, even at the tender age of nine. I took one look at you and Natalie, turned bright red and started stuttering like a fool. I don't know if you remember this part—or if you remember how we met at all – but you laughed at me and Natalie started imitating me in this annoyingly attractive way. Then you told Natalie that you supposed that I was the little nobody whom Beatrice was forced to adopt because Grace couldn't stand us and didn't want us. I ran away after that. I don't need to say that I was humiliated beyond repair. I believed you to be the devil-sent boy who came to torture me for the rest of my life. Dramatic, I know, but all children tend to be when they've been traumatized.
Then the Hunt began. I realized your cruelty ran deeper than just humiliating and insulting people. You were also ruthless, mean, conniving, deadly, and at the same time, handsome. I know this is rather a surprising thing to write, but I always felt guilty for finding you so handsome. Even at Fidelio Racco's museum, when your sister pointed a gun at my back, I thought of how good you looked. Stupid teenage hormones.
I suppose that was just a simple crush, and it would have faded eventually if Korea didn't happen. But Korea did happen, and things got infinitely more complicated.
At first I thought that you acted like that because of the alliance. I admit, it was kind of flattering, the way you flirted with me. You seem like the type of guy to be flirting with anything that came in a skirt. (Not that I was wearing a skirt, but you get the picture.) Then, the kiss. It was short and sweet, and – unsurprisingly – my first one. And finally, you left.
We didn't really meet up again after that. We never really did meet up like normal people – you get the picture. The next thing that happened was that I found out that your mother murdered my parents. Again, I don't know why I wrote that; I just felt like I had to. You need to understand where I'm coming from. You need to understand the hurt I felt, the betrayal. For years, I believed that they died in an accidental fire, a victim of an unfortunate event. Then I found out that the fire was no accident, but something intentional. My mind, for the longest time, was set on revenge on the offenders. Gradually, I realized revenge wouldn't help. It would make me just as bad as the rest of them. So I kept my hands to myself.
You may be wondering why I saved you on top of Mt. Everest, then. Why did I? You tried to kill me, your mom almost killed me, and she did kill my parents. Well, because I wanted to believe it wasn't your fault.
You were raised to kill, to lie, to deceive, but you're fighting it; I can tell. I could see it in Korea, whenever you laughed, whenever you smiled, and when you kissed me. Deep down, you're a good person. You just need to realize that.
Ian, if by some huge coincidence you do find this, know that I'll always remember you as the kid who was just as confused as the rest of the world. That doesn't sound too nice, but trust me, it is. It shows that you're just a normal person dressed in Armani. Don't think that you're mean and evil, that I blame you for the sins of your mother. She killed my parents; you didn't.
If I die and you find this, know that I forgive you for everything that you have done. My death would never be your fault, I'm sure of it. I know that you're unlike the rest of your family, maybe Natalie too. I witnessed it first hand in Korea. You may not show it, but you hurt when you try to kill. The only thing holding you back from leaving your family is you're scared that no one will accept you. Well, Ian, you have to try. There are always people out there who will see you for you. Don't let the guilt or the past hold you back from doing what you know is right.
And, Ian? If I die in this hunt, please remember me as the girl who tried to save you. And take care of Dan. Please, Ian, please. I can't stand it if I know that I left Dan behind all alone.
I want to save you from your family, because I know I can. Maybe after all this, the Hunt, I'd give it a try.
Well, that's it. I've said everything that's on my mind. I have to go now. Dan and I are heading out to buy Krispy Kreme.
Love, Amy
I stared at the paper in my hands, tears rolling down my cheeks. Unknowingly, she showed me that it was okay to be my own person. That I didn't always need my family's approval to live.
Amy did save me, from my family and from myself. I just wish I'd know that I should have saved her too.
…ooo000O000ooo…
This is the rewritten version of Save You. I deleted the original one because I didn't like it so much, but I posted it on my WordPress. If you want to read it, the link is on my profile, or you can remove the spaces from the link below. Along with the original are the comments/ reviews/ responses to that.
Oh, and please go to my friend's Blogger. It has only one post as of now, but that single post is awesome. She plans on using the blog for reviewing books, and she has really great taste. If you guys are ever looking for more books to read, check out her blog, and you'll find a lot of good books.
Any replies to reviews of this story will be posted on my WordPress.
Rewritten in celebration for passing the PerfectImagination Beta Test! I am now a PI certified beta-reader!
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