13
Travis
I can hear the cops before I turn onto the street, sirens filling the air. Ahead, all I can see are people everywhere, paramedics, police, and bodies just flung across the lawn. My heart feels as though it comes to a stop in my chest. Then I see her—my life, my soul, my girl. She’s crumpled in a pool of her own blood, and maybe someone else’s, with people just surrounding her. I unleash a feral roar, yank open the car door and sprint, until a cop slams into me, hauling me back.
“This is a crime scene.”
“Let me go! That’s my fucking girl!”
He glances at her tiny form with paramedics surrounding her, closes his eyes, breathes deep, then loosens his grip. I tear free and run to her, dropping to my knees. The paramedics are talking, but I don’t hear what they’re saying. I can only hear my own voice pleading with her to wake up. Then, my eyes swing to Chief a few feet away, blood trickling from his mouth, his hand stretched towards her.
“Help her, goddamn it,” I bellow.
“We’re doing everything we can to get her stabilized,” a paramedic tells me.
Someone asks me to move and then they’re putting her on a gurney. Rage and despair tear through me, tears roll down my cheeks. Why didn’t I take her with me to work? Why did I leave her here? Two medics hoist Chief’s body up as they work desperately on him.
“He’s barely holding on,” one murmurs.
“Trav.” Bill’s voice cuts through the chaos. He strides over, soaked in blood that isn’t his own.
“What the hell happened here?” I rasp.
“Demon’s gang showed up. A few of us had come back for supplies we forgot. Lucky we did. We did what we could...”
“All of them showed up?”
“All of them.”
I turn to face the gurney with Violet on it. I move to her, my body numb, my shirt soaked in blood. “Don’t you die on me. Hear me? Don’t fucking die.”
Violet
I wake to beeping monitors, a heavy ache that is just filling every inch of my body. My mouth is dry, so dry it hurts to move my lips. I croak and twist, and Travis is there in a heartbeat, like he hasn’t taken his eyes off me. He grabs my face, his eyes bloodshot red.
“Oh, baby. Hey. Are you okay?”
“Trav?” I whisper.
“I’m here. Nurse!” His shout echoes.
A young nurse rushes in, checks vitals, asks how I feel. She fetches water and then tells me she will get the doctor to come and check me over. When she’s gone, Travis crushes my hand in his.
“Chief?” I croak. “Travis...”
“He’s alive,” he murmurs, voice so tired and broken.
My mother bursts in, sobbing. Travis steps back as she clutches me, pulling me gently towards her as her tears soak my cheeks.
“My baby. Oh God. I never thought I would have to feel that way again.”
“I’m okay,” I whisper. “Where is Dad?”
“He’s still in surgery.”
“Is he going to die?”
“I...don’t know.”
