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“You think? Is everything okay?” She watches me.
My chest is rising and falling like I ran a marathon, and sweat is forming at my hairline.
“John?” she whispers.
“Do you trust me?” I blurt out.
“Um, I mean…” She looks confused and worried. “Yeah, mostly.”
“Good! We need to leave immediately! There is a shooter in one of those buildings and we need to stay together.”
“What?” She clutches her chest. She backs away, and that’s when the gunshots ring out in the park.
“Ahh!” she screams, covering her head.
I grab hold of her, throwing her behind my body, and we take off running for the trees. People are screaming and running everywhere. It’s like the scene from a movie I never wanted to be in. I see the village and people running for their lives in front of me. A discouraging memory. Reese’s screams cause me to hold on to her tighter. I have her tucked under my body. I’ll die before anyone thinks they can get to her. We finally get behind a tree. The leaves above should give ample coverage for the time being.
The shots stop and I stand looking around. He must be reloading. From his aim, he’s not the best, so I’m counting on the delay in reloading.
I grab her hand and run, dragging her behind me.
“John,” she yells. “John!” She tries again. “John!”
I don’t turn. Not stopping until I feel that we are safe. I didn’t acknowledge her until we were around the corner from the park. I swing her around with her back against the wall. Looking around, and making sure we are clear. Eyeing anyone with a bag or looking in our direction. Come on, you faceless piece of shit, show your hand.
Sobs pull my attention. I look at Reese as she tries to wipe the tears away as quickly as they fall.
“Baby?” I whisper. Hoping not to scare her.
She is looking down at her forearm where my hand has been, correction, where my hand is at. I’ve gripped her so hard that her skin is red and almost raw. This will leave a nasty bruise for sure. I look at her, devastated. Reese doesn’t look angry or sad. She looks scared, her body shaking.
“Baby, I am so sorry!” I take a step back, releasing her arm from my grip. I hurt her. Was she safer away from me? How could I be so reckless? How could…
She jumps into my arms as her legs wrap around my waist. I grab her back and sweet ass, holding on for life.
I want to hurt myself, knowing that I caused her any sort of pain. All I keep thinking about is how relief feels after the initial cut. Releasing pent-up aggravation.
It’s her grip on me that is holding me up at this moment.
“You saved me,” she whispers into my shoulder. “God, I was so scared!”
“I’m so sorry I hurt you!” I am begging for her forgiveness.
She leans away, confused, until she looks at her forearm. She shakes her head and falls back into my embrace. I grip the back of her head, digging my nose into her neck. Smelling her and filling this moment with the sweet coffee scent and not the smell of gunpowder that seems to find itself in my nostrils.
“Are you okay? Do we need to go to the hospital?” I ask.
“No, can you just walk me home?” She shakes her head back and forth.
I set her down on the ground, letting her find her feet. I’ll walk her home and then I’ll find out who started their day deciding to die. “Yeah, baby, I’ll walk you home.”
I hesitate in holding my hand out, but she quickly grabs it, pulling herself to my side. I wait for her to be ready to take a step. When her body moves, I follow beside her.
We get to her street and I can feel her body relax the closer to her house we get. Standing outside her small craftsman-style home, she is almost running inside. It’s a charming blue color with white flowers accenting all the perfect spots around the porch.
I follow behind at a safe distance and wait. My body is forcing me to stay farther away than I prefer. She quickly turns with puffy eyes and a planted-on smile.
“Thank you for walking me home,” she tenderly states.
