Angelic (Book 2)

Twenty-Three

Ryan is shot.

He is literally bleeding out below you, and you're standing there like an idiot.

I wasn't proud of it, was barely able to manage a coherent thought, because the sight of Ryan twitching on the ground blocked all common sense. There was nothing else.

Ryan is shot.

He is bleeding out.

Nothing August did helped. The blood continued to pump. Blake's face was completely colorless, and Jessica's face was a blotchy mess of tears. She turned to me, stricken, grabbing hold of my arm.

"Fix him!" she screamed. "Fix him, like you did August!"

Everything seemed to be happening outside myself. I knelt by Ryan's twitching form, looking into his eyes that really focused on nothing. I wanted to help. Already my heart was breaking apart in my chest, slicing through my stomach, falling all the way to my feet. He was dying.

He was dying.

And you can't save him.

This realization was a blow that left me breathless. I couldn't. I couldn't do it again. I couldn't muster up all the energy exhausted outside, killing the snipers, and this was why I froze.

"Fix him!" Jessica shrieked, and so I tried. I tried and tried and tried, doing everything I could, searching for his heartbeat, finding nothing.

Why keep trying? He's gone. Dead and gone.

But, no. Because Ryan was my friend. He was a genius. He had to survive and go to that Johns Hopkins university, and live his life the way he wanted.

He could not die.

My eyes fogged up, and it took a moment to realize it was because I was crying. Crying, because no matter how hard I tried, the blood just kept coming, and his heartbeat never came back.

It never came back.

You failure. When it really counts, you just can't come through, can you?

Please, I thought, desperation ripping apart my body. Please, Ryan.

But there was nothing.

Just . . . nothing.

I leaned back, meeting everybody's eyes in turn as Ryan's continued to stare at nothing, and the grim realization was met.

Jessica screamed.

Blake dropped his face in his hands.

August stared emotionlessly down at Ryan's lifeless face.

And I had failed.

~*~

Nobody wanted to see me. They didn't outright say this, but it was kind of the unmentioned thing flowing amidst the mentioned. Ryan was dead. I had failed him. I couldn't bring him back to life.

I failed.

So I locked myself in my room, listening to the going-ons of the house, as they prepared his body for burial and set out to do just that. And I hated it, how they had to be accustomed to this. How they couldn't even go through any proper grieving time, because this was the kind of life they signed up for. And if you die, oh well. Just another day at the job.

I wanted down with whatever organization this was, along with the Prophets.

The entire day I kept away from them, because they had known Ryan much longer than me. They had time to form those intimate bonds, whereas I had not. So I maintained my distance, giving them their space, occasionally crying and wondering why the universe could be so cruel.