Run Bad Boy Run

Chapter 48

The severity of my actions dawns on me immediately.

As time begins to move again, I drop the gun and fall to my knees, feeling as though the sky has crashed onto my head. Movement bursts to life around me: officers swarm the docks, someone grabs onto my shoulders, and I helplessly stare at Derek lying motionless ahead of me. There are flashing lights and swarming vehicles and so many words spoken all at once, their meanings are lost among the sirens.

So I finally let the numbness of the icy water consume me. I can taste sweat and blood as stray rivulets of murky water move from my hair and into my mouth.

There is more gunfire behind me.

That is where the firework sound came from, I think hazily. I already know that. The thought—one answer in a sea of endless questions—is comforting.

That comfort is shattered when I hear Abigail call my name and then scream as though she's been struck. I've never heard that sound come from anyone before. No, I take that back. I remember hearing that kind of pain in my mother's screams when Dad's heart finally stopped.

I watch her as she sits on the dock with Derek's blood-coated head in her lap, sobbing. He is still motionless. Medics swarm them before I can get a better look at him. I don't care. Seeing her with him, my mind snaps back to Hayden.

"Hayden," I whimper, crawling towards him. Men in dark jackets holding tool kits surround him. One of them holds his head while the other has a stethoscope pressed to his throat. Hands move quickly, orders are barked into radios, and the hilt of the knife that protrudes from Hayden's chest glints in the light mockingly.

"Step back, ma'am," one of the men warns me.

"You have to get the knife out of his chest. Why aren't you getting the knife out of his chest?" Hysteria bubbles in my chest. "You have to get it out! Get it out before he dies!"

"Ma'am! Please!"

Why aren't they listening to me!

Rough hands grab my shoulders. "Stop it! Let go of me!"

"Let her go," another voice says and just like that the hands are gone. I clumsily race to Hayden's side and collapse beside him, thankful for every heavy breath that comes from his chest.

"You're alive," I sob. Face splattered with blood, Hayden turns his head to look at me and the impact of the emotion that shines in them makes me dizzy. "You're going to be okay. Understand? You have to let these people help you. Please, let them help you."

He doesn't speak.

"You're going to be fine! Everything is fine!" I tell him hysterically. "Please! Tell me you're going to be okay!"

"Ember, you need to calm down." There's that voice again. I swing my gaze around to Hayden's father, Matthew, and am surprised to see the absolute distress in his reddened eyes. "Crying and screaming isn't going to help him." He clears his throat and offers his hand. "They have to get him into the ambulance."

I'm not leaving him, I want to say. I can't leave him.

Hayden begins to cough. The medics leap back in surprise when blood spills from his mouth and his coughs grow more violent.

"What's going on?"

Hayden gurgles in pain, gripping his stomach, coughing. "Give us space!" one man yells. Matthew struggles to pull me back.

"Someone! Help! He's coughing up blood!"

The seconds feel like hours. Four men rush to us with a stretcher, load Hayden on, and disappear somewhere behind the warehouse. I clumsily follow, my heart thumping faster than it ever has before. Fear makes it hard to breathe. The EMTs talk feverishly among themselves with words like 'puncture' and 'drown in his own blood'.