106 ~ Month Thirty One: June

"Sav!" Brett panics, his eyes roaming the length of my body as he searches for a wound, Becky instantly crouching down beside me with terror in her eyes, Ellis resting his hand on Brett's shoulder. Noticing the cops running over out of the corner of my eye I reach up and run my hand down the length of Brett's face, smiling reassuringly at him. It's all I want to look at, to see him alive and safe, those gorgeous captivating eyes on mine.

"Savannah?" Becky says softly, her voice cracking.

"Where did it hit you?" Brett asks quickly, his hands moving over my torso, relief evident in his eyes as he doesn't appear to find any wound. "Is it your back?" He panics once more, attempting to lift me up slightly.

"Brett, calm down." Ellis says softly, lowering himself down, "If you move her too much you might make it worse."

"We need some help!" Brett retorts, glaring at his best friend.

"I know."

"Brett..." I manage to get out, his face eyes immediately back on mine, "I'm sorry." I sob slightly, the full extent of the cataclysmic evening hitting me all at once. Brett's life just imploded before his eyes, his entire world has been ripped apart by no other than his own flesh and blood.

"You have nothing to apologize for!" He replies, his voice low as he shakes his head, "Don't you dare!"

"Y-you didn't deserve this."

"Nor did you." Brett points out, shaking his head, eyes slightly watery as he continues to hold me against his chest.

"She's been shot!" Ellis suddenly yells to the handful of cops that finally surround us, springing into action.

"I love you." I smile up at Brett, exhaustion taking over, an unknown weakness filling my body, draining me of any energy that I had left.

"I love you too."

"Are you okay?" A female officer asks, kneeling beside us as Becky lets out another sob.

"I think she's been shot!" Ellis replies, his hand still on Brett's shoulder as they all crowd around me, the woman quickly analyzing my body for blood. Brett's jaw is tense as he watches them, his hands tightening around me. I can't even imagine what he must be thinking right now. His Father did this.

His Dad has always been a dick, but this goes well beyond the realms of that, bordering more along the lines of psychotic. 

"It's hit her leg." the cop concludes, quickly calling for one of her colleagues.

"Thank God," Becky breathes out, sinking down onto the ground beside me.

"It was George." I exclaim, "Brett's Dad!" Have they got him? Did they make sure he didn't escape? Are we really safe this time?

"We know Sav." Becky reassures, "It's okay! He's dead."

"H-he is?"

"We had no choice after he shot at you." one of the cops explains as they grab my leg, tying something around as Brett stares at it, his expression pained. George is dead? He's actually gone?

"Let me see!" I struggle against Brett's arms, attempting to see around the wall of people. I have to see him, I have to lay eyes on his disgusting body to know that he's really gone!

"Sav!" Brett orders, my eyes moving back to him, "Let them do their job." He nods at the officers who continue with my leg as I fall back against Brett's chest.

"He only shot once." the female cop smiles, "Does it hurt anywhere else?"

"No." I reply. It's true. I feel numb to everything, my bloodied hands still clutching at Brett, having made a wonderful abstract painting on the white shirt.

"The ambulance is on its way." the woman steps back before both of the cops turn away.

"Wait!" I exclaim, desperate to stop them. I have one chance to finally put this to rest, a decision forming in my mind faster than it took for me to decide whether I wanted chocolate or an apple for breakfast this morning.

"Yes?"

"He killed my parents." I announce, my heart filling with lead, chest heavy as I speak the words.

"Sav!" Brett exclaims, eyes wide in disbelief, shaking his head as if to tell me I didn't have to do this. I ignore him, my mind made up about my accusation. Olivia doesn't deserve the blame.

"He did!" I continue, eyes back on the cops, "George Winters killed my parents."

*~*~*

I'm in hospital for four days. They stitch up my leg, scan my entire body for injuries, wrap up my hands to prevent infection, monitor me for concussion and sew up a wound on my forehead.

I guess George was right. I really am a tough cookie to kill off.

The main concern, my baby, is absolutely fine, kicking me almost every fifteen minutes, each one causing a wave of relief to rush through me, the knowledge that we both made it out alive causing me more joy than I ever knew was possible.

As soon as I woke up to our baby's movements the first day in the hospital I quickly grabbed hold of Brett's hand, him flying out of the chair in a panic before I placed it over my stomach so that he could feel our little child.

That first day he wouldn't leave my side, falling asleep in the chair once it got dark, the previous twenty four hours clearly draining both of us. I couldn't help but watch him for a while, a smile pinned onto my face. Becky had forced him to change into a new top, taking the blood soaked shirt and promising that she'd burn it.

Elle, Alex, Zara, Missy, Elena, Becky and Ellis all popped in and out, bringing me treats and gifts, a 'Get Well Soon' balloon being left at my bedside.

The second day I finally convinced Brett to go home at midday and he begrudgingly disappeared for a few hours. He was distraught when he came back, and I immediately cursed myself, unable to comprehend how stupid I had been to send him back to the scene of the crime.

He also returned with an unruly looking Olivia in tow, her eyes bloodshot, her hair laying across her shoulders. She sat next to me and cried for a good hour, apologizing for her husband, cursing him to hell, and thanking her lucky stars that Brett and I were alive.

At midnight I convinced him to take his Mother home so that I could sleep.

The third day Alice arrived early in the morning with mascara running down her face. I opened my arms to her and she ran into them sobbing, lying against me on my bed until Brett arrived. He coldly told her to move, that lying next to me wouldn't help me heal.

Alice promptly left, and Brett and I argued over whether she was actually causing me any harm. Neither of us won, and he left soon after.

Becky and Ellis appeared later that night with a tray of eclairs and two cheeky grins as they approached, sitting beside me as we ate and joked, neither of them asking where Brett was.

I didn't know myself.

On the fourth morning I spoke to Elle on the phone for an hour, convincing her that I was okay and that she needed to focus on Danny, not I. After hanging up I grabbed hold of the crutches and forced myself out of bed, pulling a pale pink top on and pulling the grey sweatpants carefully over my leg. Brett arrived ten minutes later, lecturing me on how I shouldn't have done it without him. I stayed quiet, nodding at the Doctor as she advised us how my leg would heal before signing me out of the hospital.

Brett sat me in a wheelchair and took me down to the parking lot, my eyes widening at the huge white Range Rover.

The complete opposite of his little black sports car.

We stay silent in the car the entire way home. Half hour later I find myself sitting on the new black couch, my grey one gone, the bookcase removed, the bullet hole in the wall filled in and covered. Brett fusses around me, lifting my leg up to let it rest before bringing me a selection of cookies.

I find myself unable to look away from the floor, the plush grey carpet gone, replaced by a hardwood oak floor. Brett has done everything he can to erase his Dad from this house, to wipe away the memories of what happened.

I should be grateful but I just don't care.

I'm still just as numb as I was when I lay in Brett's arms as the ambulance turned up, watching as they covered George's body with the black bag. I feel nothing.

*~*~*

"For fuck sake!" I snap as the crutch falls to the floor, my arm still reaching up for the flowery dress.

"Let me get that!" Brett exclaims from behind, his arm looping around my waist as he effortlessly grabs the fabric.

"Thanks." I smile at him and he nods before walking out of the closet, a habit he seems to have gotten into the last week that I've been home. Avoiding me seems to have become normality, spending ninety percent of his time in his office, seventy percent of that yelling at someone on the phone. He's hurting, I can see it loud and clear, but I have no idea how to help.

With a sigh I pull the dress over my head, the loose material falling over my bump. Grabbing a hair brush I yank it through my tangled knots, tearing my hair to pieces in frustration as I struggle to get rid of them.

"Sav?" Becky's voice suddenly sounds out, "Brett said you were up here."

"Hey Bec!" I reply, my best friend soon appearing in the doorway, a small smile on her face. I nearly roll my eyes at the sight, fed up of everyone acting like I'm going to break when they approach. "Don't look at me like that."

"I'm not looking at you like anything." She holds her hands up in a surrender, "Be careful! You'll rip your stitches!" She warns, snatching the brush out of my hand and gently taking over. "Why did you want me to come over?"

"I need you to do me a favor." I reply, watching in the mirror as she raises an eyebrow, "You can't tell Brett."

"Why?" 

"Because he won't let me out of the house." I shrug, taking a few slow steps towards her.

"I'm not comfortable going against what Brett said." She retorts, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Since when did you give a shit?" I snap and she scoffs.

"I don't know, maybe since you were fucking shot!"

"I'm not a china doll Becky." I retort, "It's not like I want to go fucking skydiving."

"Sav..."

"I need to do this Bec!" I interrupt, "And Brett won't even listen to me at the moment."

She sighs, biting on her lip as she puts the brush down beside me, "What even is it that you want to do?"

*~*~*

Stepping out of the car I blow a quick kiss to Becky before she drives off, leaving me standing at the edge of the cemetery. 

Turning to face the mass of gravestones I bite my lip before making my way through the gate and down the familiar path that I always used to take, over towards plot 673. I used to come here all the time, the first year after they died being the hardest, Elle and I spending hours and hours here, holding each other as we cried.

Stopping in front of the grey stone I smile, reaching out and tracing their names, the feel of it bringing back a rush of memories from my younger years when I did the exact same thing.

"Anna?" A small voice calls out and I turn to face my sister, car keys in hand, hair piled on top of her head as she looks at me in a slight panic, "I got your text!"

"I just wanted to see them." I shrug, looking back at the headstone. David and Grace Hurst.

"I understand that." Elle replies quietly, walking over and standing beside me, "I came here myself a couple of days ago." She says and we descend into a comfortable silence as she grabs onto my hand.

"I thought it would feel different," I finally mutter, "Knowing what happened."

"Me too." She admits, "I'm not sure how I feel."

"Brett's Dad," I let out softly, tears pricking at my eyes the longer I stare at their names. "His Dad, Elle!"

"I know." Elle replies, "You and Brett are going through so much right now..."

"So are you!" I retort, "You also just found out who murdered our parents!"

"He's dead Ann." She shrugs. Oh Els, if only you knew... she isn't! "I spent a week crying in Alex's arms." She admits, "It's okay to let it out Anna." She whispers.

All this time, my entire life, it's all been ruled by one man, one demon. From the moment he decided to cover up Olivia's mistake he's set out to damage my life, to stop me from being happy. All to protect his dirty little secret.

Brett and I have both nearly died on countless occasions because of him, and now both of us will never forget what he did, the dark shadows of Devil Winters hanging over us for eternity.

Finally I let a sob erupt from my mouth, collapsing into my sister's arms, both of us falling to the floor in front of our parents gravestones as I cry hysterically, unable to stop myself, weeks of trauma, hurt and betrayal pouring out of me like it'll never stop.

And just like that I know I will never be the same again.

*~*~*

"Elle?" I say softly as we get back into her car.

"Yeah?"

"I need you to take me to one more place before I go home?" I reply and she shoots me a small smile.

"Of course!" She exclaims, pulling away, "Where?"

"88 Belmont Street." I reply and she shoots me a confused look, "Please!"

"Okay, fine," She relents, turning right towards the center of Edgewater. Within minutes we are outside the small cream colored house, a football discarded in the corner of the garden, a little swing set off to the side.

"I'll be back." I say to Elle and she nods, grabbing onto her phone as I open the door and step out, my heart thumping slightly in my chest. I need all my remaining courage to do this, to finally confront my past, say what I need to say and let everything go.

With one deep breath I push away from the car, it taking more than a minute to get to the front door with the crutches, still having not mastered how to use them after eight days, no doubt due to the fact that Brett is treating like I'm too delicate to touch, not allowed to go anywhere or do anything.

With a deep breath I reach up and knock on the wooden door, a dog immediately barking as I hear cursing inside. I can't help but bite my lip, numerous scenarios rushing through my head. Should I have even done this? Is it the right thing to do? Maybe I should have just left it, I don't owe her anything...

The door suddenly swings open and I take a step back, both inhaling sharply as we set eyes on one another.

She's older, her hair still at shoulder length, her brown eyes glinting in the sunlight. Her face has matured, her cheeks more slender than they were in high school, but it's still her.

"Georgia?"


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