Long Were the Nights

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It happens in the blink of an eye; a flash of light, a sharp bang and suddenly she's falling limply backwards into your arms. You don't even understand what's happening before you feel something warm against your arm and you look down to see dark crimson coloring the front of her shirt. Blood.

"Taylor," you yell and she flashes you a panic stricken look before her eyes go black and she slips out of consciousness.

The scene around you is pure chaos but you barely notice it. All of your efforts are going into trying to stop the bleeding, to somehow stop the crimson from spreading but it keeps on coming, pulsating through your fingers. Somewhere in front of you someone is knocked over, and in the background someone is screaming. You suddenly realize the raw, guttural sound is coming from your own throat and you stop, somehow managing to quieten yourself down to weak whimpers.

People flock around you by the dozen, but it feels like an eternity has passed before the paramedics finally arrive, carefully prying her away from your arms and whisking her away on a gurney.

"Save her," you say frantically, over and over like a mantra, not sure if anyone is even listening to you.

An arm is thrown around you, lending you strength as soundless words are spoken to you. The arm leads you back through the crowd but you have no idea where you're going; the only thing your brain is focusing on is that fear stricken look she gave you before she slipped away.

"Wait," you manage to say, "I have to go with her!" Your words are rushed and laced with panic, a panic that's washing over you as you look down on your hands and see blood. Her blood.

"Let them work on her," the person behind you says and you realize the calm voice belongs to Tree. Something inside you just clicks and suddenly fear overpowers you and you break down, your knees giving out under you as rivers of tears flow down your face.

Minutes ago you were both on top of the world and now both of you are drowning.

***

They rush her into surgery immediately, leaving you by yourself in the waiting room for hours. The only one there with you is Tree, constantly rushing in and out through the door, sneering into her phone every two seconds as yet another media outlet is calling her up to get a statement.

You sit in silence and relive the moment over and over. One second she's standing next to you, laughing alongside cheerful teenagers, and the next she's in your arms, a bullet wreaking havoc inside of her chest cavity.

No one had ever anticipated a situation like this ever happening, least of all you. Your emotions threaten to swallow you alive for hours until you run out of tears.

Her parents arrive six hours later. She's still in surgery, but at least they get to speak to the doctors, get an update on the situation just by saying their names. You suddenly feel a fiery jealousy towards them; she's your fiancée, that should be enough. But it isn't, not here.

They sit with you all through the night, her mother's hand holding yours securely in hers every time a doctor approaches to give you an update. It feels like your heart stops beating every time they say her name, and you mutter a silent prayer under your breath all night until morning.

***

She hangs on by a thread for days, the bullet having missed her heart by a quarter of an inch. It's a miracle, they say, but the longer she sleeps the more worried they look.

You sit by her bedside for hours at a time, leaning your head onto her bed. You cry into her covers until her sheets are wet and there are no more tears to shed. You sleep no longer than an hour at a time and you can't stomach any food, your clothes hanging off you seemingly a size too big.

"Why isn't she waking up?" you ask her doctors after five days. They look anxiously at each other and scratch their chins before they walk out, not giving you an answer. You wonder if you'll see her blue eyes staring into yours ever again.

***

She crashes the day after and they rush her into surgery again. This time you lie with your head in her mother's lap, taking solace from the woman who made her. It makes you feel safe, like she's with you in some way, and you feel yourself relax for the first time in a week.

***

You're half asleep with your head in her lap when she wakes up two days later. Soft fingers brush slowly across your cheek and you lift your head up, wondering what's going on. Tears well in your eyes as you meet her hazy gaze, slits of blue looking right at you and her cracked lips forming the smallest smile.

Her fingers brush over your lips and you kiss them.

"Karlie..." she whispers and suddenly everything is okay. 

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