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I gasp for air. "No!" I shout.
"She was ready to fire another time. But before she could, I took her out. Two ambulances arrived, and we then rushed both to the hospital. In the meantime, I called Nick's parents to inform them what happened, and I made sure you were being brought here under police escort."
I focus my attention back on Martha. "Is he alive?"
A tear slides down Martha's face.
"He lost a lot of blood, sweetheart," she says. "The doctors have removed the bullets from his body. But after they did, his heartbeat dropped, and he went into cardiac arrest."
Another wave of nausea hits as I hear this.
"They had to perform CPR."
My heart breaks, and I shake my head in disbelief. "Please, no!" I cry out.
"Emma," Martha continues, "The CPR worked, and his heart started beating again. But because of the cardiac arrest, the doctors put him in a drug-induced coma so his body can rest and heal."
"Where is he? I need to see him."
"That's why we're here. After the doctor who performed the surgery came to us and informed us about his injuries and health, I told John we needed to find you as soon as possible. Brian and Cole are at his side at this moment.”
I stand up, and my eyes dart through the hall in search of the bathroom sign. When I see it, I rush over there, open the doors, and clear my empty stomach into the toilet. With shaking limbs, I make my way to the mirrors. Martha, who followed me, walks over, pulls me in for another hug, and I cry hard.
"I know, sweet girl. You've been through so much. It's okay," she whispers as she rocks me while I let another river of tears out.
"I'm so sorry," I say with a hitching voice.
Martha takes my face in her hands and stares at me. "What are you sorry for?"
"For everything. If Nick would never have met me, this wouldn't have happened. Then he—"
Martha cuts my words by squeezing my face and shaking it a bit. "Oh, Emma, stop that, and you listen to me carefully. There is nothing for you to be sorry about. My boy did what he had to do. I always told him, if you truly love someone, you fight for them with everything you've got. He did exactly that. And my boy is a fighter, so I trust him to return to us. Trust in him too, Emma."
I nod my head, and Martha gives me two pecks on both my cheeks. God, she's a powerful woman and mother. I wash my hands and take a sip of water. Then we return to John and Jenny, who are talking in the hallway.
"Can we visit Charlotte before we take you to see Nick?" John asks. "That poor girl went through hell. We've been so worried about her."
I give them a soft, watery smile. Nick's parents are amazing people. Instead of only worrying about their son, they have it in them to care for a child they only met once.
"Sure, come."
As I turn and walk to Charlotte's room, Jenny stops me.
"I'll come by later."
Before she leaves, I hug her. "I forgot to ask, what happens to Cindy?" I brush my hair nervously as I look at her.
"Nothing. The shot I fired was fatal. She died."
I open my mouth and close it. Cindy's dead? A stream of satisfaction sweeps through me. I don't feel sorry for a second. After her terrorist actions, she deserves it. I know it may not be nice for me to feel this way, but I do.
Jenny leaves and when Martha, John, and I walk into Charlotte's room, my girl’s blue orbs fill themselves with concern. "Where is Nick? Is he..." Her chin trembles. "He tried to save me, just like my real daddy tried to do," she says as new tears fall. "When I woke up in that house, Nick was lying next to me, and there was so much blood." She swallows as she tells us what she remembers.
"The large ambulance man who laid me down on a stretcher said, ‘Don't look at him.’ But I had to, and they were pressing on his belly and shoulder to stop the bleeding. He was white."
Martha and I both rush over to her. I grab her hand, and Martha strokes Charlotte's cheek as she sobs.
"Sweetheart, look at me. Nick is not dead. But he's healing."
