I couldn't believe where I was. I wouldn't register why. I refused to believe that She was involved. She wasn't involved in all of this drama, She was at home, finishing her homework, reading about drama somewhere else. She was not in the middle of it.
The scream pulled me out of my fog. I swerved around frantically; searching for a sign. A sign I should give up hope. I prayed to God I didn't find one.
Dad was on the ground. Cradling a fainted Lily in his arms gently. I rushed through the crowd over to him.
"What happened?!" I asked frantically.
Dad just hugged Lily to him tighter, slowly rising with her in his arms. Like rocking a baby to sleep.
He gulped and looked straight ahead. He jerked his head. I looked at him confused. He jerked his head again.
"They're out." His voice was raspy and caught, like he had to push the words out of his throat.
I followed his gaze, slowly turning my head; dreading.
There was a man hunched over the ground. As I stepped forward I could hear him. How is that a simple sound can make you want to…walk right into oblivion?
Please. God. Buddha. Anyone.
I collapsed beside him.
"Is she…?" I swallowed down the lump rising in my throat; the beginnings of a sob, the beginnings of vomit. I was surprised that he looked up, I could barely hear myself in my own head; too afraid at what I might think, might say, the answers.
His eyes were blood shot but there was no sign of defeat in them.
I broke his gaze and looked down. Her shirt was slightly ripped. Her lips were swollen and bleeding. She had a cut on her forehead, a bruise developing around her right eye. I brought her hand to my face. Her fingernails were jagged and short. Grace, she's slightly insecure, but she doesn't care about the perfection of her appearance. I kind of… like that.
There was dirt caught underneath them, and…blood?
I wrapped my arms underneath her frame; wincing at the feeling of warm wetness.
I picked her up and trudged to the flashing lights. As I stepped closer and closer, she felt lighter then heavier. It was as if she was fading in and out of her body; out of existence.
When they pried her out of my hands, the noise came in a little. It was as if when I was holding her the only sound that mattered was knowing she was still breathing. Feeling it.
Foreign hands laid her on the stretcher, wheeled her into the box. I stood there watching until someone's face flooded in front of my eyes.
It took me a million years but I nodded and climbed in. I watched them and gulped down a strangled cry when they ripped open her shirt. I stared at her bra when they pressed the paddles to her skin, molding them together. It wasn't in a perverted sort of way. I just couldn't look as they made her chest jump. I found it some what ironic that they used a torture device to bring someone back to life. There was an intricate weave of black and red. I tried to follow the lines out of the maze. It led me to her face. Her mouth was twisted in pain. I leaned in closer. Were my eyes playing games with me? I could have sworn…I pressed my hand to the side of her thigh. I felt fingers twist and encase mine.
It happened again. Her eyes opened to reveal the sharpest soul and the softest brown.
They finally let me see her after she came out of surgery. She looked smaller, somewhat ironic since she was definitely more covered under that heavy blanket. She had a tube coming out of her nose, a sight that was both relieving and saddening. I leaned against the door frame; satisfied to watch but also hungry for more. I quietly stepped up to her bed. Her mouth still hadn't gone back to normal. I leaned in, kissing her forehead instead. She was safe. From death. But not from me. So I walked away.