Page 75 of Letting Go

"I'm lining up the shot … You can't move."

"You can’t leave me," I whisper in his right ear. "Not now."

His chest shudders again as he tries to breathe. Something warm drips down my right leg. Blood. It's his shoulder—it's why he can't shoot. His voice is thick, dark, and he pushes words between gasps.

"I'm not … leaving ... 'til it’s over."

I hold my breath.

There's running now from the other direction. I can hear, though it feels like even my ears are on fire. A shot is fired from that direction and then Bryce says, "I love you."

His shoulder suddenly hitches up and to the left and I fire three shots.

There's a sound, like a bag of dropped potatoes. At the same time, his body jerks and I know a bullet has pierced him again. Somewhere. I can’t see.

His body sags against mine and his head lolls back over my left shoulder as his breath escapes. His warm stubble scratches against my cheek. I drop the gun and wrap my arms around his frame. He's struggling to breathe and then I feel warm, thick blood across his chest. His pectorals spasm and his stomach buckles as he tries to grab a breath. Blood flows rhythmically from his right side. There's a sudden trembling and his body feebly spasms, shuddering against my chest, under my hands, and then… I can’t hear his breathing anymore. Pressing my hands everywhere, anywhere, trying to stop the blood, not being able to see to stop it, I just start screaming, my arms tight around him, holding him. Blood oozes between my fingers. I hang on to him as tight as I can.

In seconds, I hear Finn and Nic, shouting, talking. Sirens are whining now and someone is trying to get me to let go of Bryce.

I can't. I won't.

He's bleeding out, under my fingertips.

"Chloe, it’s me, Claire. It’s ok."

I drop my arms and Bryce is pulled off me. There's shouting. A first responder calls for help. Someone hauls me up, asking if I'm hurt, and I immediately vomit. But Claire is there, holding me up, pushing my hair back. My eyes can see color now and people are blurry.

"We're going to sit you down miss," and the voice is both reassuring and authoritative enough that I follow directions. A face swims into view. Out of view.

I'm still flailing looking around, trying to see Bryce. He's being taken away from me. And then I see something on the ground, a person and something gray all around it. Someone to the right says, "Bag him."

A body bag.

Blood drains from my head and I'm going to faint.

"That's Reed," says Claire holding my face, kissing my cheeks. Her cool fingers stroke my hair.

"Bryce?"

There is so much commotion, so many people running, with blood pressure numbers called out that don't make sense to me. Then someone's putting saline in my eyes or something cool. They're talking to me, but I can't listen. Someone puts a blood pressure cuff on my arm and I just want to tear it off. Where's Bryce?

Finn swims into view and Mateus is sitting on the back of an ambulance holding something to his head. Another person checks his eyes. I cast my gaze around again. Where's Bryce?

I'm still gulping air and the paramedic is trying to put a mask over my mouth, but I'm afraid I won't be able to see again. I count three ambulances. The lights are messing with my recovering vision.

And then I see him. On a stretcher. An IV already in his arm, something across his chest, and a bag valve mask over his mouth. That was the bag they were talking about: "Bag him." Even blurred, his face is white, the stubble in dark contrast.

They load him in seconds. As the door swings shut, I hear: "Category one. Response time eight minutes. Blue call."

Four hours later and I feel almost normal. Physically. They treated me with a magnesia solution and let me shower. When Claire told them I had a possible concussion, they decided to do an MRI. Devon drove down with clean clothes for the two of us. Though Mateus was released with a dressing for the side of his head, he decided to stay. The bullet had grazed him, but it was the impact of a shelf of glass that left him unconscious for four minutes.

Four minutes. That's all it took.

I tried hard not to shake in the waiting room with everyone else. They tried to put me back in a bed after the MRI but I wanted to be with Finn, Claire, and Mateus. When Devon arrived with clean clothes, I slipped into old sweats. We hugged a long time and when we broke apart, her eyes were bright. Devon, the girl who never cries, ever, almost lost it.

"You have a minor concussion," says the ER doctor, a young, thin man with bleached hair.

Claire holds my hand while he gives me the instructions for care. I'm not listening and I think Claire knows that because after a second, she drops my hand, reaches to Finn for a piece of paper and a pen, and starts taking notes.