None of this was supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to be here. No one was supposed to be killed… James trembled at the sight of his friend on the ground with a bullet hole through his chest. The gang quickly left the alleyway and scattered so they wouldn't get caught. James knelt down by his friend and pulled his limp torso onto his lap. A few tears dripped from his eyes and he held his, now deceased, friend in his arms.

“Ryan… i-im so sorry… you weren't meant to be mixed up in this.” James sobbed out an apology to Ryan as if he were still alive. He looked at ryans face and noticed his eyes were still open. Unable to bear seeing his cold, lifeless, eyes that used to hold so much warmth, he draped his hand over his facer and gently shut closed his eyelids. He picked up Ryan’s body and carried it to the hospital, not that it would do any good. He was dead. What were the doctors gonna do? Fix the bullet hole and give him a new soul? Yeah right. 

James walked down the backways of the city to avoid attention of civilians and the cops. He reached the hospital and stepped through the threshold of healing and death. James hated it here, he always had bad experiences with doctors and the smell of bad floor wax and sick people always put him on edge. But he rushed to the office and told the nurses that his friend had been killed. The nurses instantly call for a doctor and a gurney to take the body. James turned away from the sight of Ryan’s body being carted away. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and left the hospital building. He went to his apartment and took his phone out of his pocket and went to his contacts and went to a person he never thought that he would ever have to call. He clicked the contact and lifted the phone up to his ear, listen to the dial tone, and waits for them to answer

“Hello, this is Denise Moosen.” an older woman answered the phone. 

“Mrs. Moosen, it's me, James. Ryan’s friend… I have some bad news…”