My memory flashed me back to the night we found Lana: the way she was, her condition, her body. I couldn't handle turning and seeing her so desperate for her life again. But I had to. And when I finally turned, I saw Julia.

The next couple seconds took hours. I rubbed my eyes and looked. I wasn't dreaming. After two seconds of making sure it was reality, I finally opened my mouth. I sounded like a bear when my voice found its way out. I don't know what I screamed but it sounded sort of like a mix of 'hey' and 'what the fuck' and 'holy shit' in Japanese and Swedish. Julia jumped. I'd startled her. She stared at me with eyes wide. She looked like a fucking demon, wearing all red with her too-dark make-up.

I wasn't controlling myself after that.

The 'never hit a girl' rule was removed from my head. I could hear the sounds of my guests upstairs moving around. They were picking up thee trees and fixing all the decorations, I could hear them. I realized that I hadn't moved. I was still watching Lana watching Julia and watching Julia watching me.

The message from my brain to my legs finally delivered and I started running- like a lunatic, yeah, but running toward the pair. And a few seconds later, I was standing on the opposite side of the unnecessarily long mahogany dining table dividing us. She watched me, scared.

I started to make my way around the table, careful not to run before she hurt Lana again or something. I was only a couple feet in front of her when she put her hands up. She put her hands up behind her head, releasing Lana who fell onto the tiles. I knew I should've fucking carpeted it.

What was this? CSI? I glared at her. I smiled a bit on the inside because I thought I finally solved it- I thought I finally figured everything all out. I knew, now, that as soon as I told Toews about Julia and Julia was gone, somewhere in jail probably, that all our problems would be gone. They'd disappear, for sure.

But my smile quickly dissolved. Pure fear took its place.

In her hand was a gun. Black. Metal. Real.

My life is a movie. It's a set-up. Because this kind of shit just doesn't happen.

I lost all my pride and my confidence and my cockiness. I forgot the digits in my bank account and the cars in my garage. I forgot my fans. I forgot my team. I forgot my sport. I forgot my legacy in Chicago. In that moment, I forgot who I was and what I did. I forgot that I was The Patrick Kane. I forgot me. I forgot.

I lost every bit of manliness I have ever had. And I fell to the ground on my knees and I was begging. I don't know who I was begging to. I was just begging. Begging life to stop being a pain. Begging the pain to stop hurting. Begging Julia to not touch her. But nothing came out of my mouth.

I finally croaked. "Please," I looked at Julia, "Don't touch her, please."

She let out a sideways grin.

"Please," my voice cracked, "Anything you want. This house. My cars. All my money. Let's trade. All of it for her. Come on Jules."

She cocked the gun. My eyes widened.

"Julia, I swear by every fucking thing on this planet that if a bullet escapes that gun and touches Lana in any way, I will kill you."

She broke into a soft laugh. "Cute."

I didn't know what to turn to.

"I'll tell you what, tough guy. Talk is cheap." She pulled up Lana, placing the mouth of gun in the mouth of my baby.

"Yeah, but I'm not. How much do you want you gold-digging bitch?" I snapped.

"Pat, I always thought you were hotter than Jonny but this feistiness just did it for me. Oh, I can just feel my woman parts tingling. Let's ditch and go have some fun. What do you think?"

I stared. She made beautiful look filthy.

"Okay," she shrugged her shoulders, "I'm prettier than Lana anyway.Your loss. So I'd like to make you an offer."

I eyed her down. I could still hear the sound of shuffling feet upstairs. Come down already guys. I said nothing. She continued.

"You said, and I quote, 'Julia, I swear by every fucking thing on this planet that if a bullet escapes that gun and touches Lana in any way, I will kill you.' Right?"

I sensed her losing confidence in her speech the more the spoke. She wasn't a murderer. She couldn't do it. I knew it. She knew it.

"So here's my offer, dick. I kill her and you come after me and kill me. Two girls dead. Or..."

Or? Or fucking what?

"Or," She continues, "I slide this gun over to you. And you kill just me." She paused. "Lana stays exactly the way she is. It's one or the other."

I stared in utter disbelief.

She placed the gun on the ground and kicked it over to me lightly. It slid easily against the granite tiles. I should've just fucking carpeted the floor.