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What Would You Do?
What would you do if someone you really cared about was dying in your arms?
It was a calm day. Seven forty five in the morning, marching on the band field as we usually do. Repping the same things over and over to change and fix certain aspects. After the bell rang in the school there was some sort of announcement, but nobody heard. Our director shrugged it off and continued with our class. Several minutes later, a loud bang echoed through the school and out into the open air around us. Then, another, and another, seeming to get closer every time. In the building there are screams and shouts. Another announcement is made as all of the band kids stare at our director in horror. He begins to speak.
“Everyone drop your instruments and quickly and VERY QUIETLY run through the north east gate. Don’t stop until you can’t see the school anymore.” He lowers his voice, “Section leaders count how many you have now and stay in a herd, then we will count them when we get back. Everyone go.”
All instruments are set down and after a thirty second headcount, everyone quickly runs through the gate. A door bangs open and another gunshot rings out, a senior crying out and falling to the ground in pain. Another gunshot rings out and I fall to the ground..A football player runs through the doorway behind the gunman and tackles him, the gun skidding across the pavement. Our band director runs to aide the football player as everyone runs through the gate, except me. Tears stream down my eyes as I walk to the injured girl, holding her side by her ribs.
I look at her in shock and she gasps for air. I cry out and fall to my knees, quickly taking off my shirt and sticking it on her wound. She moans in pain and grabs my face with her bloody hands. I press harder on the wound as she holds my face and tries to speak.
“I’m gonna..I’m gonna die. Aren’t I? I’m gonna die.” she whispers. Her voice falters as she sobs loudly. The grunting of the gunman and the other two restraining him phases neither of us. I shake my head.
“No, baby. Nobody’s going to die. You’re not going to die.” I tell her, tears streaming down my face.
“I love you Rylie. I do. You’re an amazing person and I’ll never forget you. Please tell my parents I love them.” She says between sobs.
“No god damnit! You’re not going anywhere. You can tell your parents, understand?” I tell her trying to stay strong. She nods.
“Now put pressure on your side okay? I’m going to lift you up and carry you to my car.” I tell her.
She grabs her side and I gently pick her up and begin running to my car. Two tuba players come up to me and offer to grab her. I nod my head, they take her, and I ask them to follow me. We get to my car and they pull the back seats out of my van. I give them the keys and they lay her down in the back. She cries out as they set her down. I shut the hatchback and take over holding her side. They drive around to the front of the school where police and ambulances are carrying people out and evacuating people. I’m shaking from fear as I look down and try to scoot myself behind her, and I see the gunshot wound on my pregnant belly. I look down at Lindsey, and then put my hands on my belly. Tears fall out of my eyes more as I drag my phone out of my pocket.
It rings until a familiar voice answers.
“M-mom. There was a shooting please meet me at the hospital.”
“Baby are you okay? What’s going on? Are you hit?”
“Mom I was hit but I’m okay. I don’t feel it it’s okay just meet me there.”
“I love you baby.” She says, her voice breaking.
“I love you too ma. Please call Darion and tell him where I’ll be.”
“Okay honey..” the phone clicks off.
I look down at Lindsey again and gently kiss her cheek.
“You’re hit.” She whispers. I nod and tell her everything’s going to be okay. The tuba player runs back to me and asks me several questions.
“How far along are you?” He asks, taking off his shirt and holding it against my belly.
“E-eight months.” I say, things getting blurry.
“Is it a girl or a boy?” He asks, trying to keep me awake.
“It’s a-a girl..” I whisper, my eyes start to close.
“Vincent stop and pick up Jordan! We need another person.” Vincent stops the van and Jordan hops in, running to Lindsey’s side. She glances at me as tears stream down her face as well. I gasp for air and Ethan looks in my eyes.
“Stay with me baby. Look, there’s an exit wound which means your baby could be okay. Take a deep breath and stay with me. Please stay with me.” For the first time, the big, strong, popular tuba player’s voice breaks and his cheeks become stained with tears.
Vincent drives as fast as he can, going 100 down the street, as I fade in and out. The entire time Ethan is begging me to stay awake. A few minutes later we pull up to the emergency room and Vincent hops out, picking up Lindsey, and Ethan grabs me. Jordan jumps in the passenger seat to park. They run inside.
“Someone help! Please! These girls have been shot please someone help us!” Ethan yells. A woman in purple scrubs grabs a stretcher and Ethan sets me down and another for Lindsey. Lindsey is rolled away with several doctors around her.
“Sh-she’s pregnant.” Ethan tells the doctor even though it’s very obvious.
“How far?” he asks.
“Eight months as far as I know.”
The doctor asks for medicines and ivs as more and more doctors crowd around me. I cry out as they remove the shirt from my belly and it begins to sting for the first time. A voice echoes in the halls.
“Ryles?!” I recognized the voice immediately. I tried to shout for him. I tried to sit up to see his face. But my body wouldn’t move.
“Darion..” I whisper, hearing his footsteps running towards me.
“Sir, I can’t let you come between us.” the doctor says.
“That’s my f***ing fiance.” He yells, pushing through and hovering over me. His tears fall onto my face as he puts his hand on my cheek. He kisses me gently.
“We’ve gotta get her up to labor and delivery. This baby has gotta come out.” the doctor says.
“Baby I love you so much. So very much. You’re going to be okay. So is Allaryce. She’ll be okay. Just breath, alright?” Darion tells me as they begin to wheel me away. All I can do is smile slightly as his hand slips off my face.
They wheel me up to deliver my baby..be it dead or alive.
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