Left for Dead by My Brother Chapter 2

A familiar voice sounded above me, thick with irritation.

I forced my head up and found myself looking at my boyfriend, Ethan Kessler.

Hadn't he already carried Maya into the ambulance?

Why was he back?

Ethan didn't even glance down at me. His eyes searched the treatment tent until they landed on a pair of custom dance shoes in a corner nearby.

Maya had them made specially for next week's final. She'd lost them in the chaos.

He had come all the way back just to find her shoes.

Ethan walked over and picked them up. When he turned and saw me sprawled on the ground, his brow creased deeply.

"Jenna, was the set outside not big enough for your little show? You had to move it into the medical tent?"

His voice was full of mockery and exhaustion.

I shook my head desperately. I tried to pull my hand, red and swollen where he'd stepped on it, out from under him so I could point at the caved-in side of my chest and beg for help.

But he misunderstood. He thought I was about to start complaining again.

"Enough!" Ethan cut me off, his tone heavy with reproach.

"Jenna, can you please stop competing with Maya for attention?

"She's an orphan. She has nothing. Dance is the only way out she's got.

"And you? You're an heiress. You have everything. Why do you always have to go after her?"

Waves of pain crashed through my chest. I gaped for air as tears of despair slid from the corners of my eyes.

Ethan looked at my tears and sighed, his face weary and resigned.

"How did I never notice how manipulative you are? I could tell you I love you a thousand times, ten thousand times, but I can't take these endless little schemes of yours anymore.

"You think if you lie there looking pitiful, I'll feel sorry for you and abandon Maya?"

His eyes slowly turned cold. "Jenna, this kind of behavior only makes me think you're vicious. It only makes me want to get away from you.

"Is that really what you want?"

Every word was a knife.

I looked at the man I had loved for years, and suddenly he felt like a stranger.

I didn't want to hear his self-righteous lecture. I just wanted to live.

With every ounce of strength I had, I pointed at the pocket of his suit jacket.

I'd always kept my asthma inhaler in his pocket.

"Inhaler..."

I pushed the word out through my ruined throat, barely more than a breath, and looked at him, pleading.

Save me.

Even if it was only for the sake of our three years together, just give me the inhaler.

Ethan looked down at my paper-white face and my lifeless eyes, and his expression finally softened a little.

He seemed to sense that something was wrong. A flicker of hesitation crossed his eyes.

"Are you... really having an attack?"

Slowly, uncertainly, his hand moved toward his pocket, and he started to crouch down to check on me.

Just then, the phone in his pocket rang.

"Ethan..."

Maya's voice came through the line, weak, tearful, and stuffy from crying.

"Maya, what's wrong? Is your ankle hurting again? What did the doctor say?" Ethan's voice was gentle and anxious.

"I'm fine. The doctor said it's only a soft-tissue bruise..." Maya sniffled, sounding terribly wronged. "Ethan, don't worry about me. Go check on Jenna.

"When the crush started, she tried to take the safe spot where I was standing and fell by accident... She's always been so scared of pain. She must be suffering so much right now. Go be with her. I'll be fine here at the hospital by myself."