I run to the kitchen, throwing things around as I sort through cabinets, finding a roll of plastic wrap. I grab some medical tape from the drawer and run back to Karissa, grateful she's exactly how I left her. I drop to the floor, pulling her hands away, and tear off some plastic wrap. I cover the wound, taping it tightly, before I search through my pockets to find my phone.
With one hand, I press firmly on her wound, while I use the other to dial 911. My heart still races as her bloody hands grasp my arm, holding on to me. Tears streak her cheeks, her breaths panicked gasps as she stares up at me. The dazed look is already in her eyes.
"Deep breaths, baby," I tell her, my voice cracking, as I cradle the phone in crook of my neck. "Try to relax. The more excited you get, the faster your heart pumps and the more blood you lose."
"911, what's your emergency?"
"I need an ambulance right away," I say. "Nineteen year old female with an open chest wound from a gunshot."
I rattle off the address, and the dispatcher tries to give me instructions, asking me to stay on the line until help arrives, but I drop the phone, letting it hit the floor beside me, not bothering to hang it up. I still clutch tightly to her wound, trying to slow the bleeding, as my free hand brushes the hair from her face.
"Naz," she whispers. "Naz…"
"It's okay," I tell her, continuing to smooth her hair as I stare down at her. "I've got you. Just keep breathing, okay? You're going to be okay just as long as you keep breathing for me. You think you can do that?"
She nods weakly.
"Just keep breathing," I whisper, relishing every breath she takes, no matter how strained. "Just keep breathing."
She tries. Fuck, I can tell she's trying, but each inhale brings on a grimace of pain. Her face contorts with a cry as I brush away her tears. "Naz…"
"No," I say, shaking my head. "Don't try that bullshit. Don't Naz me. You just keep breathing and you're going to be fine. I promise. You can't… I can't lose you. I need you to keep breathing, Karissa. Help is coming soon. Just hold on for me."
Two minutes.
Four minutes.
Ten minutes.
A fucking century.
I don't know how long it takes before I hear the sirens in the distance, the lights flashing as they pull up in front of the house. It's the police first, then the EMS. People swarm the house, officers and medical personnel. Someone grabs ahold of me, pulling me away from her. Karissa turns her head my way when I'm dragged from the foyer, and I don't hear her voice, but I watch as her lips move, mouthing my name.
Naz.
I'm dragged outside. It's chaos.
Another century passes.
Maybe it's just a minute.
I don't know.
I don't know anything.
"Just keep breathing," I whisper to myself. "Keep breathing."
I blink, and officers surround me.
Another blink, and Karissa's being hauled away.
I try to force my way past the crowd, trying to get to her, but I'm restrained. There are too many people here. Where the hell did they come from? No matter how much I scream, how much I fight, the ambulance leaves without me, tearing through the street at full speed, sirens blaring.
A few more blinks. People are talking to me. Their voices are garbled. I can't fucking think. I grip my hair tightly, pacing in a circle, not saying a word except "keep breathing."
I don't know when it happened, but suddenly Jameson is there. Crime scene tape surrounds my house. I'm standing on my front step, covered in blood, my hands shaking. He stands in front of me, a concerned expression on his face. He's a blurry mass, and I blink to clear my vision, realizing I'm crying.
I'm fucking crying.
Again.
"I have to go," I say, trying to step around him. "I have to get to the hospital. I have to be there."
He steps in my path, half a dozen officers flanking him, blocking my way. I glare at him, nostrils flaring. I can feel the tears burning my eyes. It's pissing me off more than I'm already pissed.
"You want to stop me?" I ask, taking a step toward Jameson. "I dare you to try. I dare you."
The man shows no sign of anger, his troubled gaze leaving mine to look around. His attention settles on the lump in the grass covered in a white sheet.
"Just tell me what went on," he says before turning to me again, his expression earnest. "What happened?"
I hesitate.
"He shot my fiancée," I say. "He wanted us dead."
"So you killed him."
"So I stopped him," I correct him. "Justice was already served, Jameson. Not like you'd get any for me, anyway, but your work here is done. I did it for you... again."
He nods before stepping aside. "Go ahead. I'll have some questions for you later, but go on, get to the hospital."