12:43 PM

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I got out of the ambulance, accidentally hitting my head on the door frame along the way. My body was in the hot sun again, leaving the comforting air-conditioning of the vehicle. A team of doctors and nurses surrounded Hope, lowering her gurney from the ambulance and wheeling her inside. I followed, unsurely, and held her hand as they halted. "Stay with me, okay?" 

"I don't think they'll let me come into the one room with you, but I'll be waiting for you, okay?" She nodded, our hands being ripped apart as they sped her into a trauma care room. I was pointed in the direction of a chair, a few feet away from the closed off room that Hope was in. Three detectives came in, one after the other, asking the same questions the detective before them asked. What happened? What did you see? What color was the car? What street did it happen on? What's your name? How old are you? What is the girl's name? Was there anyone else you came here with?  I answered them all the same. We were about to cross the street when everyone started running, we went to run too. There was a car. He was driving  on the sidewalk, crashing into everything, everyone... He was going so fast, I almost didn't know it was a car. It was maroon. 44th, I think; I'm not from here, I really don't know. I'm Vanessa Black, I'm 17 years old. That's Hope Armstrong, she's eighteen. I came with eight other people, my other friend, Francesca, was hit too. 

A fourth detective came in, asking me the same questions. Before he finished asking me what happened, Hope screamed her heart out. My head whipped to the side in the direction of the room, the doors wide open, giving me a glimpse of torn up clothes and blood on the floor. My body shook with sobs as she yelled in pain. The detective cleared his throat, making me slowly turn my attention back to him. As calmly as I could, I finished answering his questions. When he was done, he pat my shoulder and walked away, leaving me alone and listening to the cries and screams of the fragile Hope. 

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