The bullet hit her flesh causing it to ripe open in a surge of pain and heat. Her hand automatically went to the wound, trying to cover up the hole that was gapping in her side. She gasped as she fell back against the wall, her hand becoming hot from the blood that was now seeping out of the wound, creeping past her fingers and staining the cloth around her gapping wound a deep red.
The pain was unbelievable, unimaginable; she had never had so much pain in one area. She leaned back against the wall, trying to keep her eyes open, trying to not give into the pain, trying, desperately to not notice the red stains now rolling down her leg and onto the hard wood floor, running away from her, as a mouse runs away from a cat.
Voices started to sound in her head, laughing at her, a man crouching in front of her as she just sat there, her eyes drooping down slightly, almost shut, she just wanted to give in, to stop. Her hand slipped from the wound and more blood spilled out onto the floor.
Her head drooped forward, onto her chest and her fragile body slipped sideways, down into the black abyss that gave her some small relieve from the pain and heat of her body. The sound of laughter still sounding in her ears.
As soon as the shot had gone off, he had panicked, praying that she was alright, that she hadn't been shot. He had to get to her, to hold her in his arms and feel that she was alright.
People had moved into action as soon as the shot had been heard, armed men clad in body armour running forward, their firearms ready, tensed in their arms, waiting for any sign of a problem, waiting for the order to shot and take down the gun man.
His priority was to get her out of there, to see her again, the sod that had fired the shot was really the least of his worries, her dying body, and her fading light was the only thing in his mind over placing those of the shooter, of the man that could have hurt her.
He stayed behind the SWAT team as they smashed the door down, keeping on their heels as they entered the house and went from room to room.
That was when he saw her, lying against the back wall of one of the bedrooms, blood pooling in front of her. Her eyes were closed and he feared she was dead. He ran to her, trying not to slip in the blood, trying to make sure she was alright.
Her eyes didn't open when he touched her, rolled her onto her back so he could look at her wound, at the gapping bullet wound in her side, just above her hip, over her liver. He put his hand over the hole in her side, trying to stop the flow of blood, the hot sticky liquid pushing against his hand, but he pushed back, forcing it to stay inside herm to keep her alive! He couldn't lose her, not now, not right now! She had to stay alive, to be with him, to finish all the things she had started in this life. He wasn't ready for her to die, and he knew that she wasn't ready to die either.
He was pushed aside by the paramedics, forcing him aside, out of the way as they tended to her, covering the wound again, talking to each other quickly and urgently.
He sat back against the wall, feeling tears growing in his eyes as he watched her be taken away from him, he wanted to follow them, follow her, be by her side, but he couldn't bring himself to get up from the floor, from the pit his mind had created as he stared at his blood covered hands. Tears rolled down his checks, the realization of it all hitting him full on in the face with a baseball bat being wielded with great force. It was too much for him, he let the sorrow wash over him, unable to put it off, unable to do anything but submit to it and allow himself to be engulfed.
He sat outside the operation theatre half an hour, still in his blood stained clothes from where he had wiped his hands, from where he had rolled her over, kneeled in her blood, trying to see if she was alright.
No one had told him anything, not said a word to him, nurses passed by him, doctors ignored him as they walked by, looking at some folder or talking to a nurse about a patient, no one seemed willing to help him get information about her, he just had to sit there and wait for someone to come to him.
He was past grief now, his mind had calmed, become rational and his body was starting to sink into a feeling of great tiredness.
Before he knew it, he was asleep, peacefully dreaming that she was in his arms once again.