Stolen Identity: Mute Heiress

Chapter 306: I’m Leaving

The sound of the gunshot ripped through the room like lightning, splitting the sky.

A second of stunned silence followed—then chaos.

"No!" Callan’s voice broke as he lunged forward.

Ryan’s body jerked and slumped sideways, the gun clattering from his grasp and hitting the floor with a hollow clang. Blood spread quickly across his hospital gown, blooming red against the white sheets.

Abigail screamed, her hands flying to her mouth, and Jamal turned her around and buried her face in his chest.

Genevieve gasped, the colour draining from her face before she went limp. Stefan caught her just in time and carried her out of the room to get help.

Callan’s heart was pounding so loud he could barely hear or see anything happening around him as he stared at Ryan in shock. His whole body was cold with dread as he stared at a wide-eyed Ryan. He wanted to look away but couldn’t.

Emily reacted first. The doctor in her took over, even as her hands trembled.

"Move! Everyone, move back!" she shouted, rushing to Ryan’s side. Her voice was commanding.

She pressed the emergency button beside Ryan’s bed. A sharp alarm filled the air, echoing down the corridor.

She leaned over Ryan, checking for a pulse. "Come on, come on," she whispered. Her fingers found it, weak and fading.

"Is he alive?" Jamal asked, his voice tight and shaky.

Emily turned briefly to look at him, but her eyes filled with sympathy when her gaze landed on a pale Callan instead.

She knew without a doubt that Ryan wasn’t going to survive, but she wondered what this was going to do to Callan.

Before she could say anything, the door burst open, and two nurses rushed in with a crash cart.

Next, Emily’s dad rushed in, tense after hearing the gunshot. He’d been told it came from that way.

Emily’s dad took one look at Ryan and shook his head slightly, his expression grim. He touched her shoulder and said quietly, "You don’t need to see this. Take Callan out with you."

Ryan was not going to make it, and even if he was, the neurosurgeons who could attend to him were in the middle of a major surgery they couldn’t be pulled out of.

The room filled with the mechanical rhythm of medical commands and beeping monitors.

Emily looked back at Callan, her face pale and streaked with blood. He was frozen by the bed, staring at his father, his face empty and pale. She reached for him gently. "Callan," she said softly, "we need to step out and give them room to work."

Callan’s eyes were glazed with shock as he let Emily lead him out of the room. His feet moved like he wasn’t aware he was walking. All he could think about was Ryan’s wide-eyed stare that reminded him of the man he’d murdered nineteen years ago.

Jamal and Abigail followed close behind. Abigail’s legs felt heavy. Her throat was tight and her face wet with tears.

As Callan stepped into the corridor, the world seemed to tilt.

The light above him flickered, the walls closing in like they were breathing. His chest tightened. He tried to pull in a breath, but the air wouldn’t come.

Ryan’s wide eyes flashed before him again, empty, staring, the same look he’d seen nineteen years ago. It was the same smell of blood on a cracked head.

He pressed his palms against his ears, shaking his head, whispering, "Stop. Stop. Stop."

Emily turned to him, alarmed. "Callan?"

But he couldn’t hear her. The hallway was gone. He was back in that apartment again, standing at the top of the stairs, watching his foster father falling. The same wide eyes.

His breathing grew faster, sharp, shallow gasps that scraped his throat. His vision blurred at the edges. The floor felt like it was slipping out from under him.

"Callan!" Emily’s voice came again, firmer this time. She grabbed his arm. "Look at me!"

But he couldn’t. His heart was hammering so hard it hurt. He stumbled backward, slamming against the wall, sliding down to the floor as his hands clawed at his chest.

"I can’t—" he choked. "I can’t breathe—"

Emily dropped to her knees beside him, panic flickering across her face. "Hey, hey, listen to me. I’m here. Breathe."

He shook his head violently. "Blood. There’s so much blood— his head—" His voice broke, trembling. "He looked at me the same way. His eyes—"

On hearing that, Jamal rushed over from where he had been comforting Abigail. He understood why the memory had returned so violently.

Emily frowned. "What are you talking about?" She asked in confusion. She could tell he was having a panic attack, but she didn’t understand why or what he was saying.

Tears streamed down Callan’s face. His whole body shook uncontrollably, his breaths coming in short, ragged bursts.

Jamal crouched down beside Callan, eyes wide with concern as he placed both his hands on Callan’s shoulders, shaking him gently and forcing him to look at him. "Callan, listen to my voice. You’re not there. This is different."

Callan flinched hard, curling in on himself like the little boy he had been years ago, and gasping like he was drowning. He pressed his hands to his chest. "He’s dead... they’re both dead. It’s my fault."

Emily’s throat tightened at those words. She exchanged a worried glance with Jamal. She didn’t understand what he meant, but she could see that Jamal did.

Emily turned to the hallway, shouting, "I need help! Somebody get me a paper bag, now!"

Putting aside her own shock and grief, Abigail ran off to find someone to give her a paper bag.

Emily turned to Jamal. "What’s happening?"

"He’s having a panic attack," Jamal said quickly. "He’s reliving a memory from the past. He’s not here right now."

Jamal shook Callan’s shoulder again. "Breathe, Cal. You hear me? Breathe!"

A nurse hurried over with a small brown bag. Emily held it to Callan’s mouth. "Breathe into this, okay? Slow down. In... out... that’s it."

Callan tried, his breath catching between sobs. His body trembled so hard the bag crinkled in her hands.

Emily’s voice stayed calm, even as her heart raced. "You’re safe, Cal. You’re in the hospital. You’re not there. You didn’t shoot him. He did it himself. So it’s not your fault."

Their words began to cut through the haze. The air started to come back, in uneven gasps. His shoulders sagged. He pressed a hand over his face, the sound of his sob muffled.

His parents and Emily’s mum appeared then, and his mother froze when she saw him on the floor, shaking. "Oh my God, Callan."

She ran over to his side and dropped beside him, wrapping her arms around him without hesitation. "Breathe, darling. Just breathe."

He clung to her like a lifeline, and both Jamal and Emily stepped away to give them room.

Delilah pressed her cheek against his head, her tears falling into his hair. "Everything will be fine, darling. Everything will be fine," she kept whispering over and over again until his breathing steadied slowly.

He looked up at her through tear-filled eyes. "How?"

"We don’t have to figure out the how today," she said softly. "We can do it another time. Let’s first breathe today."

Emily stood beside them, her expression blank, her emotions tangled in knots of pity and pain as she watched Callan.

This was the first time she was seeing Callan this way, and it broke something inside her and made her wonder just how much emotional baggage Callan was bottling up.

Callan’s father, who stood aside watching his wife and son, turned to Jamal, since he seemed more in control of his emotions than the others. "What happened?"

Jamal swallowed, "Ryan shot himself. He didn’t want to apologise or take responsibility as we all wanted him to."

Emily rushed to the door when her father stepped out of the room, and from the look on his face she could tell that Ryan was dead.

Callan’s Dad helped him and his mum to their feet, and they all turned to face Damon.

Damon took a deep breath as he looked at everyone. "I’m sorry," he said quietly, his voice heavy. "Mr Ryan Harris didn’t make it."

Even though they’d not exactly expected him to survive a gunshot wound to the head, hearing that he was truly dead that way still shocked them.

For a moment, there was no sound.

Abigail covered her face, tears streaming down as her body shook with the force of her sob. Jamal rubbed her back gently.

She looked up at him, her face streaked with tears. "How can he die just like that? How could he do this? I wanted him to pay for what he did," she whispered. "But not this way."

Jamal swallowed hard, his own eyes damp. He didn’t have an answer for her. He wished he could say something but he was still in shock himself and the only reason he was doing his best to stay calm was because of her and Callan.

Callan’s voice broke when he spoke again. "He’s really gone?"

Emily nodded slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I’m sorry, Callan."

He shook his head, "There’s no need to be sorry. The one that should be apologised to is Dawn," he said, turning to Abigail. "I’m sorry that he was such a coward, who would rather take his own life than take responsibility for his actions. I don’t know how to make up for it..."

"You don’t have to make anything up to me. You didn’t do anything wrong to me," Abigail said with a sniffle.

Callan took a deep breath. "Thank you," he said, then looked at his parents, "My business here is done. I’m leaving," Callan said, and walked away while they all stared at him, wondering about the sudden switch in his behaviour.

His mother wanted to follow him, but his father stopped her and looked at Emily. "Go with him, peach."

She glanced at her parents before going after Callan.