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“Wake up, baby. Wake up now!” He should wake up. He always wakes up. He always does anything I want him to do.
He promised.
“I said clear the room!”
The police work to shove me back. They’re strong. But so am I.
Red and blue lights flash around the foyer and ricochet off the chandelier crystals, scattering light all over the floor. The sound of metal sliding against metal rings in my ears.
“Sissy!” Aiden’s arms wrap around my stomach. He shoves the other arms from me and picks me up like I was a toddler.
“No!” I kick and fight his hold –like a toddler.“No! Put me down. Put me the fuck down.” I throw all my weight between every swing of my legs, but he refuses to let me go. “Jim needs me!”
“No,” his voice cracks. “He needs help, Sissy.”
“Get off him!” I fight Aiden and try to clutch at the doorframe.
They rip the blood-soaked shirt away from Jim’s chest and slap an oxygen mask on his face. His handsome, chiseled face, that belongs to the handsome strong body thatdoes notneed help to breathe!
He’s strong. He doesn’t need help. He never needs help.
“You have the right to remain silent…” I look across the room at a short fat cop who slams Lindsi against the wall. “Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law…”
“Load them up! We’ve gotta go.” A lady EMT climbs onto Jim and slams her hands down over his chest. They savagely shove tubes down his throat and lift him onto a stretcher bed.
“No!”
Aiden turns and drags me into the cold night. “They’re helping him, Sissy. He needs help.”
“…Pulmonary parenchymal laceration…”
This is bad. Really, really bad.
Like in a time warp, people rush around us, slow motion, then warp speed, then slow, then fast.
Flashing lights draw my dazed gaze and send me into a meditative state for the two minutes Jim’s out of my sight.
Police continue to rush in and out and shout through the chaos. Police radios crackle in the night and young officers work to contain the fall out of a massacre in a family home.
“…Deceased…”
“…bring in the coroner. We need crime scene techs…”
A stretcher is rolled out the front door, but that woman is no longer on top. A blanket simply covers him from head to toe.
No.
