Page 106 of Ricochet
“Ava,” I whispered, but the reply never came. I couldn’t hear anything but my breathing and my footsteps echoing in an empty house.
I could hear the dogs barking outside, but whoever made this mess seemed to be gone, or at least hiding.
My whole body froze when I reached the opening to the kitchen.
Her dark hair was spread over the floor, a complete contrast to the white marble below. The eyes that held so much joy just a day ago, were now closed, lost to me, because I knew that the pool of blood she was lying in wasn’t something she could’ve survived.
A knife was sticking out of her stomach, the same stomach that held her baby. The baby she was so excited about.
It was all gone, lost. All her dreams, her future, all of those were sent to hell, because I knew that she was dead.
For a moment I stood frozen, my mind refusing to connect with my body and realize what was happening.
My best friend had been stabbed. She wasn’t moving, her chest was still, not even a breath taken. What was that feeling in my chest? Was that pain or horror, because I felt as if somebody pulled a rug beneath me.
Our light was gone.
My senses kicked in and I ran to her body, dropping on my knees into the blood that shouldn’t have been spilled. I pressed one hand to her stomach, trying to stop the bleeding, but it was futile.
“Ava, please, please, please.” I sobbed into the empty space. “Please, stay with me.”
Pushing her head backward I pressed on her pulse, trying to find even the smallest beat. For a moment there was nothing, and the scream tore from me, the anguish taking over my whole body.
“Ava!”
I started shaking her body, thinking it would bring her back.
“Ava, you can’t leave me. Please.” I pressed harder on her neck and felt a small beat answering my prayers. “Yes, yes, stay with me. Just stay with me.”
I moved higher, right above her chest, positioning my hands on her chest.
“This will hurt, but I promise I won’t let you go. I won’t let you die.”
I started pressing on her chest bone, trying to make her heart beat faster, trying to bring her back to life. The redness on my hands was taunting me, mocking me and my attempts, but I wasn’t stopping.
“Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine,” I counted each compression, “thirty.”
I pushed her head back, opening her mouth and breathing into her. Once, twice, but her chest only lifted when I breathed in.
“Come on, Ava.” I started chest compressions again, when a crack sounded around us, and I knew I broke at least one of her ribs. “I’m sorry, but you will feel better. You’ll see. You’ll be better.”
My vision was getting blurry, but there was no time to wipe away the tears spilling from my eyes.
“Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen... Please, Ava. Please.”
Another crack, and another bone broken.
She’ll be fine. She’ll be fine.
“You’ll be fine, Ava. Everything will be just fine. You will grow old, and you’ll have four children. You will pester me for the too many cigarettes I’m smoking, just please. Breathe for me, please breathe.”
Her pulse spiked up, but it wasn’t enough.
Maybe... Maybe if I removed the knife. I could do that. I should do that.
What did they say on the first aid course, to remove the object or not?
God fucking shit, I couldn’t remember. Should I remove it or leave it in? What was the better option?
