❝I'm not sure how long I managed to sleep. 

Honestly, I was surprised I slept at all. I'm not sure how I was able to ignore the pain in my leg for long enough to rest. I don't know if more people died while I was asleep, but if they did, no gunshots stirred me. 

Sleeping was a risk I had to take in that situation, and if I didn't wake up, well, that would be too bad. At the time though, there was simply no other choice for me other than to close my eyes and wish away the bad. 

When I did eventually come around, it took me a minute to remember what was happening. It was like I thought it was all a nightmare and I somehow would wake up in my bed, forgetting about it in an hour. However, it seems that wasn't the case. 

As soon as it dawned on me what was going on around me, what had gone on around me, I was angry. It was a burning feeling, a full-fledged rage that made me see red and grit my teeth, wanting to scream and take revenge on the man who had done this to us, to me. 

I wanted to remove myself from existence, erase the pain that I was feeling and make myself numb. I wanted to set everything alight and burn it to ashes, along with myself. The blood that had smeared and dried  on my skin was not only mine, but that of another innocent. Although it wasn't my fault, I really felt it within my heart, as if there was something I could have done. The body of the elderly woman a few paces away only fueled my emotion further. 

I wanted to wrap my hands around the throat of the assailant, but deep down I knew that when it all come down to me and him, I had no chance. 

He would send a bullet between my eyes before I even got close to him; the visual of that only putting out the fire in my spirit. 

There was no hope for us. 

The wound in my calf was making itself known to me in the form of a dull throb, the initial pain having been washed away in the midst of my fruitless emotional outburst. The lesion looked red and raging, the skin around it had been stained crimson, and I knew right then that it wasn't looking good. 

The bullet had to come out, thanks to my knowledge of hospital drama shows on TV, but my only issue was the fact that to remove it safely, I had to make my way to the aisle with the medical supplies. I could make do with a pair of tweezers and some bandages, but to get there, I was undeniably putting my life at risk. 

My judgement was askew, and at the time, it seemed like the best option. I had no other ideas, and I couldn't just sit there and wait for my fate. 

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, preparing myself for what I was about to do. Normally, I would have never done something that put myself, or anyone, in danger, but in a situation most of the outcomes seemed grim, it appeared to me that I had nothing left to lose. 

I flicked open my eyes, as ready as I possibly could be. Now or never,  I told myself. 

I then slowly pulled my feet out from under Elijah, wincing as a stinging pain shot through my leg. Then, on shaking limbs, I dragged myself to my feet, clenching my jaw and resting majority of my weight on my good leg. I steadied myself on the wine shelves, urging my body to move. 

Just as I was about to take a step, a sound caught my attention, halting me as my bad leg was mid-air. 

It was the sound of sirens, wailing faintly in the distance. 

I gasped, knowing my call must have made enough sense for the emergency services to work out what was happening. 

Hope began to trickle back to me, and a weak, tired smile graced my lips for a second. 

It felt like things were finally looking up. 

After all, it seemed like a good omen at the time. ❞