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I clench my eyes as my body shakes with fear, refusing to look death in the eyes. I know it’s coming. It’s inevitable and I try to prepare, try to breathe through it, but nothing could ever prepare a person for this.
BANG!
FUCK.
Shooting pain tears through my shoulder, and I bite down on my lip, trying not to scream in agony, terrified for Georgie. My teeth rip through my lip with the force of my bite, and as I hold back my screams, I taste the blood in my mouth.
There’s no doubt in my mind that I’m going to need stitches in that, maybe even surgery. The question is, can I make it to the point of receiving those stitches, or will I lose too much blood while I wait for help?
My shoulder aches, but I don’t dare move until I’m certain he’s gone, feeling the blood begin to soak through the bed. I need to check it out. I have to know what kind of damage has been done, but I’m terrified of looking, because the second I do, it becomes too fucking real.
The blood pools under me and runs off the bed, sounding like a fucking tap, I realize just how bad it is. I’m losing too much blood. If I don’t get help soon, I’m not going to make it. I need to apply pressure before I pass out.
Hearing the gunman’s footsteps leave the room, I let out a silent breath, jumping again when I hear the next door being kicked in.
Where the fuck is the hospital security? Where the hell are the police? The fucking SWAT team? Sean?
Sean? Oh, please let Sean be okay. I can only imagine the fear he’s in for his little girl right now. And Mel, she would have had a front-row view of the man coming in here.
Those manic eyes haunt me as I shuffle off the edge of the bed, certain it’s safe for me to move. Looking around the room, I see a splintered mess from the door and do what I can to avoid looking at the pool of blood on the floor.
Not knowing if he’s going to come back, I’m all too aware of just how fast I have to be.
I dart across the room, hating how exposed and vulnerable I am without the door. Ripping open the supply cupboard, pain shoots through my arm, but I don’t look, not yet. My arm dangles down by my side as I use my other to reach up and drag Georgie off the shelf.
She gasps as she looks at me, and I can only imagine what she’s seeing, but I don’t have time to dwell on it. I let her fall from the shelf and catch her over my good shoulder before bolting to the bathroom. I put her down in the shower and pull the curtain around to hide her just that bit more.
Then going back to the door, I look out at the room and run back to the supply cupboard. I grab anything and everything I can possibly find to help stop the bleeding and jam it down into the pockets of my scrubs. Then before racing back to the bathroom, I grab Georgie’s asthma inhaler, all while my heart pounds out of my chest.
Racing back into the bathroom, I lock the door behind me and fall against it with a pained groan, the tears brimming in my eyes. We’re not at the finish line yet, hell we’re not even halfway. There’s still a madman loose in the ward, and until I’m absolutely certain he is dealt with, I won’t be leaving Georgie’s side, or this bathroom for that matter.
Finding the strength to look at my wound, I move in front of the mirror and finally see what Georgie was seeing. Blood soaks my scrubs and trickles from my bitten lip, trailing down my arm and pooling on the floor beneath me.
Shit. This isn’t going to be good.
I empty the pockets of my scrubs into the bathroom sink and reach for the bottom of my top. I try to remove it, but it’s too hard. If I had scissors, I’d be able to cut it off, but I’m going to have to do it the hard way.
I walk back to the shower and gently pull the curtain back to see a sobbing Georgie. “Georgie, honey. Are you okay?” I ask, my voice breaking as it gets caught on the lump in my throat.
She looks up at me with terrified eyes, her tears streaming just as fast as mine. “I want my daddy.”
“I know, sweet girl. He’ll be here so soon, but until then, I need you to be brave and help me out. Do you think you could do that for me?” She nods her little head and I take a step back to sit on the toilet. “Can you see that I have a sore arm?” She nods again. “Okay, good. Well I need to take my shirt off so I can fix it. Can you help me do that?”
