“Stay until the cops come,” my mom yelled back to my father.
“Go!” he yelled.
This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t fucking happening.
“Eric, it hurts.” Madeline’s hand clenched onto my shirt, and I shushed her.
“I know, baby. I know. Don’t talk. I’m right here.”
My mom glanced back with blood all over her shirt and hands as she gripped the wheel. “Don’t let her close her eyes, Eric. It’s life or death.”
An emptiness that I’d never experienced before clung to my bones like a deep cold as I pressed harder onto her stomach.
I stared down at Madeline’s cold, clammy face. Her eyes were getting heavy, her breathing shallow. “Madeline,” I barked. “Look at me, baby.”
Her eyes fluttered as if she were trying to focus. She finally locked eyes on me, and I pressed harder onto her stomach. Her hand gripped my shirt again, which was good. That meant she still had some strength.
“Do you remember that time we watched a movie together through our bedroom windows?” I asked, trying so fucking hard to keep my composure.
Madeline swallowed roughly, her pretty, pale face wincing.
“We wrote notes back and forth and held them up during the commercials, commenting on everything we had watched so far.” Her belly tightened underneath me, and she began gasping. I will not fucking lose her.
She was still staying locked on me, her hand still bundled in my shirt.
“Once you’re better, we’re gonna watch it again. I can’t remember the name of it, but we’ll watch it again.”
I glanced ahead, and we were pulling up to the hospital. My mom was flying through the emergency area, our flashers indicating that we were the emergency.
“Brink.” Madeline’s voice sounded far away. Weak. Too weak. “It was Brink.”
The car door opened, and I pushed us out, running after my mom who was already through the doors.
Things happened quickly. Madeline was torn out of my arms and thrusted into a stretcher. Her head fell to the side, rolling slightly as her eyes began to close. Blood was everywhere. They’d ripped her blouse in two, the buttons popping all over the floor. My mom was pressing on her wound now, running with the on-duty nurses.
“Gunshot to the abdomen. I haven’t looked too much, afraid she’d bleed out, but I’m thinking pneumothorax. She’ll need a thoracotomy with a chest tube placement.”
Then, they all disappeared behind the swinging doors, and I stood there, all alone, with Madeline’s blood all over my hands.
“Eric!” Ollie and Christian came into view as I stood against a wall in the emergency area. A few nurses had recognized me as Heather’s son, and soon, word got around about what had happened. They offered to help me clean up, giving encouraging words about Madeline. Heather is the best trauma nurse we have. Everything will be okay. Do you need anything?
What I fucking needed was to know what was going on.
“Dude, are you okay?” Ollie gripped the sides of my face, pulling my chin up to meet his gaze. “We followed you home. There are cops and ambulances everywhere. Your dad told us to come here to check on you. He said he’ll be here soon.”
I shook my head back and forth slowly. I was in a daze, like I was high but not the good kind of high. This was the kind of high that made you paranoid but also frozen in time.
“Eric,” Christian came into view. “Talk to us. Is Madeline okay?”
“I don’t know,” I answered, my bloody hands hanging down by my side. I wasn’t even sure how much time had passed since they took her from my arms.
“Talk to us,” Ollie urged. “What can we do?”
I shook my head again. “I…I don’t know.”
“Eric,” Christian’s voice deepened. “What happened?”
I blinked once, trying to focus on anything other than my bloody hands. “Her father shot her.”