Hello Rosalynna

Chapter Twenty - Six: Souls | ✔

May 11, 2037

Chapter Twenty-Five: Souls | ✔

"I'm as green as the ring on my little cold finger

I've never known the lovin' of a man

But it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand

There's a boy here in town, says he'll love me forever"

If I Die Young // Band Perry

Valentina Carson

I gazed down at the blood, and the searing pain finally crashed into me; a bullet had torn through my chest. The weight of the injury pressed on my lungs, and I began to notice my breaths turning into labored gasps. My eyes locked onto Dallas, tears streaming down my face like an uncontrollable river. Just like the times we'd cuddle in bed, he placed his arm out for me to lay down on holding me tightly as we both looked into each other's eyes.

As I lay there, Dallas extended his arm, inviting me to rest against him. It felt like a familiar refuge, his embrace providing a comfort that momentarily eclipsed the agony. Our eyes met, and in that shared gaze, words seemed unnecessary.

"I love you more than anything, you know that, right?" Dallas's voice cut through the pain as if in this moment our wounds became something we weren't going to focus on.

"I love you too, baby. We're going to make it through this, okay?" Despite my weakening strength, I continued trying to apply pressure to both of us, my hands trembling as I felt my body succumbing to its growing frailty.

I could feel myself freaking out about what we were going through, and I think he could sense it as he said, "Calm down baby okay, you have to calm down or you will lose too much blood."

I nod as I continue to try to slow my breathing. I could feel my lungs beginning to constrict me from breathing more and more as we lay there on the concrete flooring. Samuel began to limp over to us taking off his belt to try and add pressure to Dallas' wounds. Samuel had been shot in the leg but I don't think he was shot elsewhere. He had his phone in his hand calling for help on speaker phone, "911, what's your emergency?" crackled the operator's voice.

"My friends have been shot. We need help," Samuel's shaky voice responded, "We're at the old warehouse on Elm Street."

The operator then asked, "Okay, sir. Can you provide more details about the situation?"

"I, uh, we were just trying to fix up this old place, you know? Like, just organizing stuff. And then she barged in, looked deranged, and bam! She started shooting, man. My friends, they're hurt bad. Is help on the way?"

"I've got help on the way, sir." He then inquires, "Can you tell me how they were injured? And their names?"

"Yes, Valentina Carson, she's hit in her chest and her shoulder. Dallas, uh, Dallas," Samuel hesitated, his eyes darting between us, and I managed to mutter the last name, "Jacobs, Dallas Jacobs."

"Are you able to apply pressure to any of their wounds?" the operator inquired, her voice a lifeline in the disarray.

"Yes, I applied pressure to Dallas' with a belt. Valentina's is, uh," Samuel's voice wavered as he struggled to articulate the gravity of the situation.

"I understand, sir. Can you tell me who the shooter is? Can you describe her?" The operator's tone remained steady, but there was an urgency underlying her words, a recognition of the critical details needed to assist us.

"Her name's Veronica. She's my sister, but she's lost it, man. I never thought she'd do something like this." Samuel's voice cracked with a mixture of disbelief and anguish. "She's about 5'7, brown hair, these intense blue-green eyes. Olive skin, and her hair's this wild chocolate brown curls thing going on."

As Samuel relayed the description, I lay there, caught between the agony of my injuries and the surreal nature of the situation.

"Yeah, her name's Veronica Ravens. She's about 5'7, and blue-green eyes. Olive skin. And her hair, it has this like this brown curly situation going on," Samuel described, wincing again as he tried to recall details. "She's young, maybe something is wrong with her mentally or something I don't know what's wrong, my sister has never been this violent. It's insane, man."

"Got it. Anything else? Any distinctive features?" the operator prompted.

"No, just...just get here," Samuel pleaded.

"Help is on the way. Stay on the line with me. Can you tell me where she went?" the operator continued.

"She just bolted after shooting us. I have no idea where she went."

Dallas began to tap me and I struggled out, "My...house."

"Valentina is saying she may be going to her house, I have no idea the address and she's going in and out of consciousness so I don't think she can even tell me. We need someone here fast. Please, hurry," Samuel urged, desperation evident in his voice.

"We have units on the way. Stay with me, sir. Is your other friend conscious? Can you tell me how he's doing?" The operator's voice was steady, providing guidance.

"He's conscious, but he's fading. They're losing a lot of blood here," Samuel replied, his desperation evident.

"Help is on the way, sir. I need you to keep applying pressure to the wounds." The operator's voice remained steady.

"I'm doing my best, but we need someone here fast. Please, hurry," Samuel pleaded, the seconds feeling like an eternity as he continued to do his best to keep Dallas and me stable while we waited for help.

Samuel kept hovering over us, checking our breaths as if he could breathe life back into us. It felt like a miracle that I had even made it this far. Beside me, Dallas whispered, "I love you, baby. We almost made it."

"I love you too, Dallas," I managed to murmur, my voice strained. The pain pulsed through me, but Dallas's words were a comforting melody in the chaos.

We lay there, clinging to each other, the cold concrete beneath us a stark reminder of the brutality that had unfolded. As Dallas held me, I couldn't help but think about all the plans we had, the future we had envisioned together. Tears welled up in my eyes as I whispered back, "We almost made it."

"We did make it, baby, together," Dallas whispered, his voice a mix of reassurance and love as his hand held onto my hand moving my engagement ring.

Dallas, holding on with a strength that belied his condition, gradually took a labored breath, and then another. Each breath seemed to require more effort, and I could see the struggle etched on his face.

"Dallas," I choked out, my heart pounding in my chest. I held onto him tighter, as if my embrace could defy the inevitable.

His eyes met mine, and with a faint smile, he let out a final breath. At that moment, time seemed to freeze, and the weight of his departure settled heavily on my soul. "We made it, baby," I whispered, my voice breaking as I clung to the bittersweet truth as I felt my strength waning, the pain in my chest intensifying. As if following the script written by fate, my soul began to join his.