Jessie Humphries: Killing Ruby Rose

You can do this, Rue. You have to.

I did as he said and crept past LeMarq’s decrepit van, cursing when I inadvertently stepped in a puddle of muck and felt the nasty water enter Penelope’s peep toe.

Another scream escaped out the cracked warehouse door ahead of me. A weaker, more defeated cry. And something swept through me—an inner surge of strength, a shot of adrenaline, a wave of determination. Whatever poetic crap it was, I used it to fight the fear. I wouldn’t let her die.

I entered the building and found cover behind the metal skeleton of what used to be a large piece of machinery. Dad wouldn’t have fit, but I did easily. He always said my small size was one of my biggest assets.

At the far end of the sprawling space full of old machinery left to rust and rot like robot corpses, the shadow of the grotesque monster stood dark against the wall. The only light in the warehouse emanated from his corner. As I rounded the perimeter, I hushed my Penelopes by moving on the balls of my feet. I tried to hear what he was saying, but he was too far away. Steadying my breath, I checked my watch—it had been approximately ninety seconds since the 911 call. I had another ninety seconds, maybe, before the sirens would be heard. Somehow I had to get close enough to trap LeMarq. I moved through the shadows and around the haphazard machines until I was close enough to his voice to stop and find a vantage point.

I crouched behind a large, dead, steel apparatus. Its wires and electrical board had been ripped out like a medieval disembowelment. I raised my head up enough to catch LeMarq’s wicked eyes flicker in the unnatural blue light of a camping lantern he’d set up on a makeshift table. The sight of him caused shots of fear to rip through me. I clenched Smith tighter.

And then I saw the girl. Sitting on the ground, her back against the wall on my right. Tied at the wrists and ankles. I was no more than thirty feet away from her, yet I was miles away from knowing how to save her with LeMarq standing between us.

My heart missed more than one beat when I focused on her face.

She looked—exactly like me! Well, me when I was about ten. We could have been twins. That had to be a coincidence…didn’t it? There’s no such thing as a coincidence, Rue, I heard Dad remind me.

“Just wanted to say thanks for the delivery ,” the monster said. But he wasn’t talking to the girl. He was on his cell phone. Who was he talking to? “Just beautiful.” He stared at her on the floor, admiring his catch.

I looked again—her long blonde hair parted in the middle, her pale-gray eyes, her petite frame. Mini-Ruby was trembling with terror.

“OK, ten-four, brother.” He shut the phone and moved toward her.

The girl’s eyes were full of fear as she shuddered under his gaze. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a shining blade. She screamed again and tried to push herself further against the cement wall, as if it might give way and save her.

No, only I could save her now. But there was no way for me to position myself between them. As soon as I announced my presence, he’d be able to grab her and use her as a shield. And he’d kill her. What other option did I have, though? He reached out toward her and—

“Stay where you are or I’ll shoot,” I called as I cut out of the shadows to confront him.

He grabbed the girl.

“Who the hell are you?” he yelled in my direction with an expression I didn’t quite understand.

I paused, wondering what drug he was on. He’d brought me here! I must’ve looked different with a gun in my hand. Or maybe he didn’t expect me to get here so soon.

“I’m the person who’s finally going to stop you from killing one more innocent girl,” I said calmly. “Now, let her go!”

I raised Smith to a higher sharpshooting position, and turned on the laser sight, aiming the little red light directly at his overgrown unibrow.

He laughed. “You! You think you’re gonna stop me?” He slid the blade under the girl’s neck. Her eyes exploded with terror, and my soul exploded with rage.

I took two balanced steps forward, fighting my growing anxiety. It was clear he didn’t take me seriously—after all, I wasn’t much older than the girl he had in his arms. But he was wrong not to. “That’s right, LeMarq. I’m going to stop you.” I glared at him to make sure he knew I meant it.

“How’d you know my name?” He took two crooked steps backward, dragging the girl with him.

“Don’t play games. You know who I am, just as well as I know who you are. You texted me. You wrote the message on your van!”

His face scrunched up like he was trying to manually restart his useless brain.

“Girl, I don’t have a clue who the hell you are or what message you think is on my van, but if you want her to live, you’ll drop your piece. Now!” He barked like a chained pit bull with more balls than brains.

Was he telling the truth? The surprise in his eyes seemed so genuine. And he didn’t seem to have laid any traps. I studied his face for any tells, noting every strained gesture. If he really didn’t know who I was, then someone else had brought me here. Suddenly, everything felt wrong.

I reanalyzed the situation: The police should arrive any second. He would hear them and drag her out as a shield—then kill her and run. I had no doubt that’s how it would go down. This was the time. Dad’s voice was loud and clear.

Take the shot, Rue. Find the largest target area and pull the trigger. Save the girl.

LeMarq’s legs were well shielded despite the girl’s small frame. His left bicep was exposed but wrapped around the girl’s chest. The winged demon on his shoulder was practically calling out to be exorcised. But my bullet would pass through the girl’s shoulder after his, and dangerously close to her heart.

My only shot was his forehead—the one exposed area that would mean a sure kill. As much as I despised him and wanted him punished, I didn’t want to kill him. His life wasn’t mine to take. I silently begged him to just leave the girl and run. Yes, there was the risk of leaving evidence behind, sending him to prison for sure this time. But the bigger risk was me pulling the trigger and sending his brains somewhere far worse than prison.

A wicked wind swirled across the space, and dust flew into my eyes. I was about to lower my weapon to shield myself from the grit, but the sound of sirens blared in the distance, pulling me out of my hesitation. It did the same for LeMarq. He pressed the knife into her skin. Blood sprayed. I pulled the trigger.

The deafening gunshot rang out.

Time stopped.

The world changed into a black-and-white movie with a river of red flowing all around me.

A ruby-red river of my own making.

I ran to the girl and carried her a few feet away, applying pressure to her gushing neck, and shielding her from LeMarq’s dead body just a few feet away. She’d already been through enough. She didn’t need to see that.

We didn’t talk. We didn’t cry. We searched for meaning in the gauzy haze of shock hanging over us. We waited in each other’s eyes, the same gray eyes, communicating without words. She was scared of dying. I was scared I might not have saved her.

I willed her to stay alive.

Soon a swarm of uniforms, white gloves, and disembodied voices cut in and out of my consciousness. Questions were asked, one-sentence answers were given, and the girl was ripped out of my arms and strapped to the stretcher.

And then she was gone.

Even when my mom appeared on the scene, wrapping me in a scratchy police blanket to shield me from the arriving paparazzi and escalating interrogations, the darkness seeped inside.