“But you’ll never be the father to my kids.” The hard tone in her voice feels like the ticking of a bomb.
I start toward her, my body moving on its own. I hear Ruby telling me no, but I can’t seem to stop.
“You whore,” he says a second before he shoots—right into her stomach.
Everyone screams, running past me. I know they’re getting out, pulling Ruby with them. But I don’t follow. I can’t. My friend needs me.
I rush to her side and put my hands on her abdomen to stop the bleeding.
“What did you do?” I yell. “Ashley? Ashley, can you hear me? Help me,” I plead as I look at him, but he’s gone. Not physically, but I know he’s not here anymore. The part that was Barry left when he shot his pregnant wife.
He sits where I shoved him off her. Blinking but not seeing, I don’t think. Then he stands and walks away.
“Don’t go. We can still help her. I need your help.”
He shakes his head at my words but doesn’t leave, just paces. I look around, not seeing anyone else. The once-crowded office corridor is empty.
I turn back to Ashley. She has her eyes open, but other than a blink here and there, she’s hardly coherent.
“Stay with me, Ashley. I’ve got you.”
I look around for something, anything. There’s so much blood. Behind her is the bathroom she came out of. It’s not much, but I know they stock it with female products. I crawl to it on my hands and knees and grab the basket full of pads, then rush back to my friend who’s bleeding out.
I rip two open and press them to her stomach, placing her hand over them. “Hold these, Ashley. Hold them.” I put more on her and apply pressure to try and stop the bleeding. I need to secure them.
Light from the window catches my eye, then the hanging plant in front of it. I stand and jump, hoping to catch it. It’s out of my reach, but only just.
“Barry, help me,” I plead as I continue to jump up and try to pull down the plant. I need the rope that’s holding it up there in some fancy Etsy art project someone must have spent countless hours working on so someone at the hospital could buy it and try to spruce up the place with some greenery.
He does nothing but stand and look at her, saying things I can’t hear. He might not even be saying anything, just moving his lips. He’s completely lost his mind, it seems.
I see the desk chair and run over, grabbing it with so much force that I hit the wall. The hospital can bill me for the damages. I roll it over, careful not to hit Ashley.
Setting it just under the plant, I climb up fast. Too fast. My weight’s off-balance, and the chair rolls. I go down hard, hitting my head.
Spots. All I see are spots. There’s a ringing in my head, and when I push up, I immediately sink back from how dizzy I feel. But I push through.
I grab onto the first thing I can find, surprised to see it’s the chair, and pull myself up, then move the chair back to where I need it. And slower than before, to prevent any further dizziness, I stand on the chair. I wobble a bit, but after a moment of surfing the air with my hands out, I’m steady enough to reach up and grab the plant. With a yank and a yell, I pull it down.
The ceiling comes down as well with everything else, dirty plaster and dust raining down on me. I fall again, but this time I expect it and roll. I don’t hit my head, but my ankle twists hard enough to make me grimace.
But it’s nothing. The pain means nothing. I shuffle on my hip back to Ashley and untie the intricate knots that hold the potted plant.
“Ahh!” I yell, frustrated that it’s taking forever. Finally, between my determination and someone above who’s looking out and wants me to succeed, the last knot gives way and I’m able to untangle the entire thing.
“Okay, Ashley, I’m going to lift you to get this under you. Shhh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”
She groans as I lift her, but it’s better than no noise at all. I fasten the rope over the pads, replacing the ones that are soaked through already.
I check her pulse. Weak, but there.
“Barry, we need to get her some help.”
He doesn’t say anything, and I look back at him. He’s staring forward but not seeing anything.
“Barry!” I scream.
His eyes slowly move to meet mine.
