UPSIDE DOWN

~ 46 ~

Andrea 

The world is noise.

Sirens. Shouts. Luca's gasps. The metallic stink of blood sticking to my tongue.

Everything is chaos, a blur of red lights and moving hands. Paramedics yell something about pressure and bleeding. Papa's voice cuts through, sharp and commanding. "Move! He's losing too much!"

I'm kneeling beside Luca, my hands covered in his blood. My brother's blood. His skin is cold and clammy, his chest jerking with every uneven breath.

"Stay with me, Luca. Stay with me," I whisper, though my voice is shaking too much to sound real.

He blinks, barely, and the corner of his mouth twitches like he's trying to smile. My throat closes.

Someone says, "We've got him," and the stretcher lifts. My knees almost give out. Francesco's arm wraps around me, pushing me aside so the medics can pass. My brain feels detached from my body, like I'm watching this from somewhere else, somewhere safe, somewhere I can't reach anymore.

And then I see her.

Sylvie.

She's just behind the chaos, her fingers trembling on the wheel of her chair, her eyes locked on Luca like he's the only thing she sees. There's blood on her hand, smudged across her palm, but that doesn't surprise me, there's blood on all of us.

"Sylvie," I call out, but she doesn't look at me.

She's whispering Luca's name under her breath, again and again, like a prayer. Her lips move but no sound comes out.

She looks pale. Not terrified, just empty. Hollow in the eyes, like she's holding herself together by threads no one else can see.

The stretcher bumps over debris, and I stumble after it, my body still running on adrenaline. My mind screams at me to focus, to keep moving.

And then, A sound.

A soft, muted thud.

It shouldn't even be noticeable with all this noise, but it slices through everything.

I turn around.

Sylvie's wheelchair has tipped slightly against the wall.

She's slumped forward, her hand still curled loosely on the wheel. Her hair hides her face.

"Sylvie?"

She doesn't move.

My stomach twists. My body reacts before my brain does. I rush to her side, kneel, touch her shoulder.

She's warm, too warm.

And then I see it.

My hand comes away wet.

Dark. Red. Sticky.

For a second, my brain refuses to understand. There's blood on everyone, it's not new, but then I see where it's coming from.

The back of her head.

It's soaked. The wound is deep, hidden beneath her hair. I feel it pulsing against my fingers.

My chest collapses.

"No," I breathe, "No, no, no-"

Francesco freezes in place, eyes widening. Aurelio's voice cracks, "Andrea, what- what happened?"

I can't even answer.

All I can do is press my hand against the wound, as if that could stop it. As if I can still fix this.