shots, 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘳.

[006] rooftop.

There was a spot in New York City that brought you peace of mind. The only part of the city where all of your responsibilities as a doctor were forgotten was the rooftop of the Chrysler Building. It was majestic, magical, even. Every night, you climbed the hundreds of flights of stairs to reach the observation deck at midnight, when the building had long closed for the day. It was trespassing, yes, but there was no other place in the world you would rather be each night. Even in the morning, when your insomnia was at its worst, you would drag yourself to the top of that rooftop and sit at the edge, looking at the sky. Your legs hung over the ledge. It was thrilling because of how high up you were.

Tonight, it was raining heavily and the wind reached high speeds. That didn't stop you though, as you made your way to the building and began to climb the stairs. You had brought a large umbrella and a towel, just in case. The climb up was always the worst part of the adventure. As you trudged up the stairs, the rain splattered against the windows. It gave the city a sort of blurred look as you gazed out at the small lights in the distance. You continued to trudge up the stairs. The rain was hitting harder by the second and, by the time you made it up to the rooftop, you could hear a distant boom of thunder. You wouldn't be staying here for much longer, lest you'd want to be electrified. You set down your towel as a makeshift seat at the edge of the rooftop and hummed to yourself, slowly sitting down to ensure you don't slip. Your legs hung off the edge, touching the rain-splattered windows below. Thank God you brought an umbrella tonight.

The clouds had already enclosed the sun, shrouding it in gray. There was no sunset tonight, just a monochrome night. The wind howled in your ears. You clutch onto your umbrella.

As the wind roared louder into your ear, you could hear faint footsteps behind you. They were heavy and slow and splashed against the puddles. You turned around, and a dark figure was standing a few meters away from you. They, or whatever it was, were clearly in pain, limping and hunched over. You stood up, grabbed your towel and umbrella, and made your way toward the figure. As you got closer, you noticed they had a large, black trenchcoat blowing behind them in the wind. He was clutching his stomach while his other arm was holding his shoulder. The figure didn't notice you.

"Excuse me, are you alright?"

He looked up as you approached him. The rain was making it difficult to see, but you noticed a splash of wine red on his inner layer. His voice was raspy and hoarse.

"Ugh... no. Who are you?" He let out a small groan of pain as you continued to approach him, his grip on his stomach tightening. You look down at water running along the floor. It's slightly red.

"What happened?"

He doesn't respond and falls on one knee on the wet floor. You're finally close enough to see him clearly. He's wearing all black, but his coat is torn. His pants are ripped, and a large gash in his right thigh seems to be bleeding through the fabric. You can't tell what happened to his stomach because his arms are covering it. He lets out a hiss of pain. You drop down to help him and put your hands on his shoulders, prompting him to look up at you. He's wearing a mask with aviator goggles.

"Were you shot? Stabbed? What happened?"

"... Knife... Left side..."

You gently lay him down and release his hand from the stab wounds. It's on his left side, slightly below his breast. You can see the bleeding seeping through the fabric. You start to unbutton his vest frantically. There was no way you could call emergency services. There was no phone booth this high up.

"Hold the umbrella. Can you do that for me?"

He nods and groans in pain, lifting his head up slightly to see what you were doing. You shush him and he puts his head down again, holding the umbrella so his wounds are shielded from the rain. You lean in closer to get under the umbrella as you left his vest up to reveal the wound. The blood is a scarlet color, and it's gushing out of the wound. You grab your towel and put it over the wound, lightly pressing down. He shifts slightly and hisses.