Every inch of Emery's being felt aflame, twisted, and sore. He felt nauseous. His left hand, searing and bloody, came to his face. He threw the knife, stained in what he knew to be Hannah's blood, across the room until it hit the opposite wall. "No. No. No. I won't let you do this to her! I wo-won't. I can't let you, Liam!" Both his lips trembled as Emery attempted to push his brother out of his present state. He lifted his head, eyes shut tight. If he focused, Liam could be suppressed for just a moment. But it did not matter if he focused -- Hannah was still hurt. She was hurt because of him.
"Get out of here," he whispered hoarsely. He turned his head, chin on his shoulder, watching her trembling figure from the corner of his eye. "GET OUT OF HERE, HANNAH! NOW!" It was Emery that screamed. If he had not, it was only seconds before Liam would release himself again. Only seconds before he got what he wanted that evening.
Only seconds before his best friend died at his own hand.