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“STOP MOVING! STAY WHERE YOU ARE AND KEEP YOUR HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!” A sob breaks from my mouth, and my hands shake violently as I begin to cry. I can’t stop the tears once they start. My chest feels tight and I feel hysteria threatening to break free. It is getting hard to breathe.
As soon as the sob leaves my mouth, Decker snaps his head to the side, his dark eyes finding mine. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” I’ve never heard his voice sound so soft and sincere. My heart cracks at the sound of it.
“TURN AROUND!” The gunman yells as he jumps forward to get in Decker’s face. “AND SHUT UP.” He keeps yelling but I try my hardest to block out his voice. My hands instinctively reach out and fist the back of Decker’s sweatshirt, clutching it tightly.
At that moment, the man in front of me finds some bravery and sees the gunman is distracted. He tries to tackle him from the side. The gunman goes flying and his gun goes off. One moment I am standing behind Decker holding tightly to his shirt, the next I am on the ground underneath Decker.
It’s hard to explain the sound and also lack thereof after hearing a gun being shot. There was both chaotic noise and deafening silence filling my ears, which makes no sense but it is incredibly unsettling. I hear a loud ringing, but I don’t hear anything happening around me.
I can’t move. How long have I been lying here?
I still feel Decker lying on top of me. I close my eyes.
The ringing is so loud that I can’t focus on anything else. For a while I feel nothing but Decker lying on top of me, but then that lessens and I feel his hands on my face, then my arms, and then back to my face again. I am being shaken, but gently. Opening my eyes, I try to look around and make sense of what I am seeing.
Elliot Decker.
My eyes finally focus on Decker’s face, inches from mine. His voice sounds muffled, but he keeps trying to say something. I’ve never felt so disoriented. I try to sit up and he immediately moves off of me and reaches out to help me sit up. His hands cup my face, his thumbs subtly stroking as he kneels beside me. He is trying to talk to me as people rush around us. I see police lights outside and cops hurrying around inside.
I look back at Decker. He is mouthing words, looking at me with that same intensity he always directs at me, but this time his eyes are laced with fear and worry. His voice finally becomes clearer, and I hear him say, “Madeline. Madeline, can you hear me? Please answer me. Please tell me you’re okay!”
“I’m okay,” I whisper. His head falls for a second and his shoulders loosen in relief. He looks back up at me.
“Are you able to stand? Can I help you stand?” He breathes heavily, his hands still holding my face.
I nod my head, which he releases before standing quickly. He reaches down to grasp my arms, and helps me to my feet. I start to look for my phone, but when he realizes, he slides a hand into his sweatshirt pocket and pulls it out, handing it to me. The screen is cracked.
“Oh man, I just got this fixed,” I say quietly. He lets out a breathy chuckle and I look up at him surprised; I’ve never heard him chuckle before.
“You’re okay. You’re okay,” He mumbles quietly, almost more so to himself than to me. He closes his eyes for a moment before opening them and looking deeply into my eyes. He takes a deep breath before letting it out harshly and quickly.
It doesn’t feel uncomfortable this time though. The intensity he always has when he looks at me feels like a breath of fresh air. It feels like he is looking into my soul, like he really sees me. He looks at me like he wouldn’t survive if he looked away.
I finally find my words. “Are you okay? I can’t even believe that just happened. That was freakin’ scary,” I say. My eyes feel like they are as wide as they can go. I look at the chaos around us. He chuckles again, as if in disbelief. I am about to comment on his second chuckle in a matter of five minutes when I notice the blood.
“Elliot! Holy crap, you’re bleeding!” I cry as I grab his arm. At my loud exclamation, a police officer comes over to check him out. Decker just keeps looking at me. He tries to shake the officer off, but the officer waves over a paramedic.
“I’m fine,” He says harshly to the cop. I grab his hand. I don’t know what makes me do it, but I can’t help it. He looks at our joined hands for a second too long, and then up to my eyes.
“Please, just let them check you out and make sure you’re okay,” I plead. His dark, broody, angry eyes soften at my words and he nods.
I walk with him outside as the paramedic leads him towards the ambulance in the tiny parking lot. He looks only at me the whole time that he is checked out.
EIGHT
ELLIOT, NOW
I wait a few minutes after Mads’ parents go inside, letting them have a proper reunion before I join them. The doctor follows me in, looking pleased that Mads is awake and conversing with us.
“Madeline! It’s nice to see you awake!” Dr. Whitlock says as she pulls Mads’ information up on a tablet. “Your vitals are looking good. Heart rate is okay, mobility is good. How are you feeling?”
I look at Mads, but she is avoiding looking at me. Her parents keep giving me comforting looks. Ana walks over to stand near me so her parents can stay closer to her, so we are both off to the side of her bed. Ana watches the doctor, but I watch Mads.
“I feel a lot of pressure and discomfort…on my head. And I feel a little confused,” She says in a small, raspy voice. Hearing her speak fills me with so much hope, even though life is a bit messy right now. The week of silence while she laid in a hospital bed was torture.
“That sounds completely normal. I’m going to check your incision again under the bandage, but it was looking good this morning. It looks like you're due for some more pain medication soon, so I’ll make sure the nurse is ready with that. As for the confusion, don’t be too worried. Give yourself some time. You’re not going to be back to normal right away. Be patient with yourself, and patient with your family.” The doctor smiles reassuringly in Mads’ direction. Mads looks at me quickly and then away even faster once she sees I am looking at her.
The doctor checks her incision and says it is still healing great and that the bandage will come off soon. Mads looks relieved, and she mumbles something about her head being ‘itchy’. I smile because she has always had a way of putting focus on the wrong things in serious situations. It is like her mind's way of dealing with the fear and pressure.
