Page 115 of BounBound By Scars

“Pulse faint. Respirations shallow—”

And then—

“Flatline. We’ve got no pulse. Starting compressions.”

“No, no, no…” I staggered forward, trying to reach her, but someone held me back.

“Sir, you have to let us—”

Fuck no. I removed the person’s grip on my arm violently.

“Push one of epi, now!”

“Charging—clear!”

Her body jumped on the gurney.

“Still no rhythm. Again—charge to 200, clear!”

I couldn’t breathe. I was drowning in her blood, her silence, the way her hand had gone limp when I’d tried to hold it one last time.

“Prep for intubation—”

“Still no pulse. Going again. Charge to 300—”

The hallway was spinning, but I stood there. Frozen. Watching the love of my life die right in front of me.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare die on me.”

I whispered helplessly—collapsing on my knees, my fingers clutching my hair painfully, as sobs racked my exhausted body.

???

The blood had dried now.

Her blood.

I didn’t know how long I’d been staring at my damn hands when a pair of black heels stepped into my line of sight.

It felt like an intrusion.

A disruption to this numbing, comfortable void I had built around myself.

I didn’t want company. I didn’t want someone to tell me it was going to be okay—because there was no comfort in pretending I’d ever see those gray eyes again.

I tried to hold on to the last memory of them.

The way they looked at me.

No fear. No pain. Just… trust.

Like she knew.

Did she know?

Fuck.

Had that really been her last moment?

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