..

Pictures scattered the entire floor around Dray, who sat at the edge of the run against the couch, hugging her knees to her chest. Her eyes darted between each one as she listened to Wells rattle off name after name.

"Nash with Cliff, my cousin's fiancé, Nash with Sheriff Heron and the mayor, Nash with just the mayor, Nash with just the sheriff, the sheriff and the mayor, Lucy with Nash, the sheriff, and the mayor, my uncle and the sheriff—is that it?" Wells let out a loud sigh, running his hands over his face. His leg bounced, grazing Dray's back.

Dray clenched her jaw. "Yeah," she said softly, "I think that's it." She scanned the photos once more and landed on the person that could be her twin.

He followed her eyes and reached for her shoulder. He lightly rubbed it and kissed the top of her head.

"I was hoping she wasn't involved." She picked up the photo of Lucy and Nash and ran her thumb over Lucy's face. She wasn't smiling and instead held her classic mean girl expression. She'd mastered that one in junior high.

Dray huffed and dropped the photo. "So," she turned to Wells, "what are we supposed to do with all of this? Obviously we can't go to the police. There isn't even a real crime happening."

"It's proof for us." Wells scooted to the edge of the couch and leaned over her shoulder. "We'll build on it and then it'll be proof for others."

Dray rested back on his legs and looked up at him. "Sounds like a long road."

He smiled and tilted his head to the side. "You in it?"

"Yes," she said without a second thought. She turned and gave him a kiss, smiling into it.

A harsh bang interrupted their peaceful moment. The duo's heads snapped towards the sound and then to each other. After a few seconds of scrambling, they stood at the front door.

"Stay here, Dray." Wells put his hand up and opened the door, walking outside.

Dray's heart felt two seconds away from bursting out of her chest, but she jogged out after him, straight into the woods, and along a familiar path. Once Dray saw the odd tree from her first week in Hero, a sense of dread washed over her. Curiosity killed the cat and this time, she wasn't sure if satisfaction would bring it back.

Coming up behind Wells, she grabbed his arm. He tensed, but with a quick backwards glance and shake of the head, he pulled her close behind him. They lingered around the tree and looked for anything or anyone suspicious. Nothing was there. Nothing was out of place. All Dray noticed was a fading smell of cigarette smoke.

She placed her palm on the odd tree for balance as she looked over the drop off and into the river bank. "Oh boy," she muttered, following it up with a hushed undistinguishable sound landing somewhere between a groan and an elephant.

She yanked her hand back form the bark. It was wet, slimy, and red.

"Wells." She grabbed him with her other hand.

It took him a few seconds to register what she wanted, but as soon as he saw her hand raised in the air and covered in blood, shining in the moonlight, he froze.

Their eyes trailed down the tree, discovering blood dripping from the bark. Chills sparked through Dray's spine to the point where she couldn't stop the inadvertent shake. She tried focusing on her breathing, but nothing was coming to rhythm. Her body shook, but she couldn't move.

Another gunshot ricocheted through the trees. The sound slammed into their ears.

Dray dropped and crawled to the other side of the tree. The ground barely held enough room for two people before they'd fall into the river.

Another shot sounded much closer than the last.

Wells collided into her side with a grunt. He hid his face in her neck and Dray wrapped her arms around him. Her fingers tangled in his hair. Thoughts tumbled through her mind, slipping before she could grasp one.

They waited.

Dray prepared to get caught. Her breathing came out like a heard of animals and she knew they were visible from the path. The sun set on their walk over and provided their only form of cover; however, her hair signaled a bright message of they were going to get shot.

Deep murmurs rose form the woods, but blended into nature. Dray squeezed her eyes shut and tried to make out the words, but footsteps quickly take their place and soon followed heavy breathing to rival her own.

"Did you get him?" a low voice said.

"Yes, sir. It's done."

"And the others?"

"Scared them off."

"Good. Reconnect with the kid and get out of here."

Dray's heart plummeted. Her throat closed up. She would recognize the second voice anywhere. The realization hit her hard. Sheriff Heron stood feet away.

The other man sounded new, new to the entire picture, and by their exchange, he held the authority.

The words soon shifted into the crunch of dry grass. Dray let her head hit the tree, still holding tight onto Wells. After the footsteps faded away, neither of them moved an inch.

The minutes laced together, growing longer, slower, before Wells broke the silence with a muffled groan. He pushed himself up to a sitting position and winced, clutching his upper body.

Dray sprung up and turned to him. "Did you get shot!" She gave a halfhearted attempt to keep her voice down.

His gaze shifted between his arm and her and he shrugged. Pulling back his hand, it reflected under the moonlight more dark red.

"Oh my god! You got shot!" Dray's hands landed in her hair and her jaw dropped. She shuffled closer on her knees. Her fingers hovered over his bloodstained shirt.

Wells grabbed her wrist. "I'm fine." He stood up.

"Fine, my ass!" Her whispers treaded on yells. "That is blood."

Without any reaction, Wells took down the path to his house.

Dray jumped up and walked at his heels. "You better be headed straight to a hospital." She crossed her arms.

Wells picked up the pace.

She clenched her fists.

Back at his house, she beelined to her phone.

"No." Wells tore the phone from her hands and threw it on the couch.

Her eyes couldn't get any bigger. "Are you joking? Wells, you got shot. People go to the hospital when they get shot. This isn't a game anymore." Her hands flew in a frenzy around her body.

"A game?" He shook his head and entered the kitchen. He ran a towel under water and pressed it against his upper arm, leaning on the counter. "Think for a minute, Dray," he winced and moved the towel a little higher, "we know that the sheriff was out there with some guy. If I go into the hospital with a gun shot wound, they have to report it and we're done. That's it. This has never been a game."

She massaged her temples with the bottom of her palms. "Bathroom," she muttered and walked down the hallway. She reached for the first aid kit as Wells came in behind her.

"Sit," she pointed to the toilet," and take off your shirt, please." Dray managed to pull out what she needed from the disaster of a first aid kit and set it on the counter, where her sight dragged across Wells' naked chest.

She avoided eye contact and washed her hands before taking away the bloodied towel. Getting a clear look at his wound, they realized it was just a graze. With little knowledge of the medical world, Dray guessed it'd leave a pretty nasty scar.

"See," Wells said, "they missed. Not much of a wound for a hospital visit."

"Right." She scoffed and tossed a bloody washcloth in the sink, but then sighed. "I'm sorry. I don't think this is a game." She focused on wrapping his arm. "I guess, it didn't feel real until now."

After she finished with his wound, Wells pulled her onto his lap. His head dropped back into the crook of her neck. "I know, but now, things just got a lot more complicated." His breath warmed her skin.

Dray closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around him. "That's an understatement."

..

[EDITED OCTOBER 9, 2021]

When you have no self control and start posting everyday. 

JK, I'll only post if I'm ahead on writing, which is happening a lot right now because I just want to be done and start editing! 

Thanks for reading!