The phone was right there. I snatched it, almost dropping it twice before I managed to hold it steady in my hand. My vision started blurring at the edges.
Call 911. That’s what I should’ve done. But my thumb moved on its own, pulling up Sianni’s name from my recent and hitting call.
It rang.
“Please. Please pick up.”
“Kyrie?” Her voice hit my ear, and the relief that washed through me damn near made me fold right there. “Oh, my God, I’ve been trying to call you. Where have you been? I need to?—”
“Sianni.” My voice came out rough and thin. “I need you to come home.”
There was a pause, then panic.
“What? Kyrie, what’s wrong? You sound?—”
“I’ve been shot.”
There was silence on the other end before she responded.
“What?” Her voice jumped so high it cracked. “What you mean you been shot? Where are you? Are you—oh my God. Kyrie, where are you?”
“Home,” I forced out. “Driveway. Jamal… it was Jamal.”
“I’m finna call 911,” she said, her voice shaking.
“Just come.” My head tipped back against the car. “Please. Just come.”
I ain’t want strangers, I ain’t want cops, and I ain’t want questions. I just wanted her.
“I’m five minutes away,” she said quickly. “Five minutes, baby. Hold on for me, okay? Can you do that?”
“Yeah.” My eyes started drifting. “Yeah, I got it.”
“No. Don’t do that.” Her voice sharpened. “Don’t close your eyes. Stay with me. Talk to me. Tell me what happened.”
I swallowed hard, trying to piece it together through the pain. “Practice… beat his ass… he followed me home…”
“Okay. Okay, you’re gonna be fine. You hear me? You’re gonna be fine.”
I wanted to believe her. Wanted to hold onto the way her voice wrapped around me, urgent and scared and there.
But I was getting real tired.
“Kyrie?” she called, louder now. “Kyrie, you still there?”
“Still here.”
“I’m turning on our street right now. I can see the house. I’m almost there.”
A second later, I heard her car before I saw it. Engine loud. Brakes screaming. Door flying open.
Then, there she was. Sianni came running toward me, fear all over her.
“Oh, my God.”
She dropped to her knees beside me, hands landing on me quickly but carefully, checking the wound, pressing down to slow the bleeding. Pain shot through me, and I hissed.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she rushed out, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I have to stop the bleeding. We have to?—”
