Carrots Are The Best Vegetables

Chapter Seven

“Anne?” Gilbert called again, and felt panic rising in his throat to the point where he could barely keep croaking out Anne’s name, until finally, his eyes laid upon ginger, beautiful red hair… and then a gunshot. “NO!” 
    Gilbert watched as once again Anne slugged to the ground, but this time, she looked different. There was no red blotches blossoming upon her dress, or any moans of pain, but there was the deafening silence that ran through the both of them after the bullet shot through the frosty air. 
    “Anne, are you alright?!” Gilbert sprinted to Anne, and looked her up and down multiple times to make sure she wasn’t injured, but next to her was a pile of blood… 
    “B-Buh… Billy.” Anne stuttered, and held her shaking, bloody finger towards the pile of blood, which was sheaved over the muscular boy like a blanket that would never come off. “He… he attacked me, and h-he shot… but I m-moved the gun, and… oh my God… I’ve killed someone…” 
    Anne stared hollowly into Billy’s eyes, which were decorated with a pinch of terror, that cowered behind his fiery irises like insects in a dark cave. “Anne, what happened… just tell me step by step what happened… you didn’t kill him. If he shot the gun, that was him, not you.” 
    Anne continued to stare into Billy’s eyes as her voice dragged across the air like a quiver to a strong, murky-colored paper. “He dragged me out of the school, after I t-talked to Cole… maybe he heard us or something else, but he seemed so upset… I tried to pry away, and call for you, but he took his rifle… and then he was bleeding… and now… now he’s dead.” Anne sobbed, and only looked up towards Gilbert for a moment to cry more when she saw the disturbed look on his face. 
    Suddenly, Gilbert saw as Billy’s chest lifted slightly, and Gilbert felt a bittersweet flush of relief swim through his pupils as he sighed and looked down towards the shivering Anne. “Anne, he isn’t dead! I-I need to go retrieve Miss Stacy, stay here, and put pressure on his wound.” Gilbert ordered as he sprinted off towards the school, and felt his legs inflame as he pushed the doors of the school open, interrupting the class, which was stirring with Billy, Anne, and Gilbert’s disappearance. 
    “Miss Stacy, it’s Billy!... he shot himself!” Gilbert yelled, and disappeared outside of the doors as soon as he had arrived. Miss Stacy stood paralized for a moment before sprinting after him with her palms holding her skirt up. 
    “Prissy, watch the children!” Miss Stacy sung before diving out of the doors and pining after Gilbert, with her leather boots bounding against the crystallized, frosty grass. “Oh my!” Miss Stacy gasped as her eyes set upon the limp Billy, whom was being dragged towards the school by the bloody Anne. “Anne! What has happened?!” 
    “He was trying to hurt m-me, but then he shot himself! Gilbert, help me get him to Green Gables, it’s the closest residency!” Gilbert ran towards Anne and took Billy from her. 
    She had still been shot days ago, which could be told by her limpining, weak arms, and exhausted expression. “Hurt you?” Miss Stacy lingered before helping Anne stand up. “Yes, we need to get him to Green Gables before he loses too much blood!” 
    After what felt like hours, the white fencing of Green Gables appeared like a sign of heaven, as Marilla met Miss Stacy’s face with a startle, and say the state of Billy in Gilbert and Anne’s arms. “Oh my lord!” 
    She quickly opened the door and allowed the four to come in, with  blood dripping down two of them. “Matthew, come quick!” Marilla yelped as Gilbert and Anne placed Billy down on the soft couch that stood in the Cuthbert’s den. “What happened?!” 
    “There was an incident with a bullet!” Miss Stacy cried, and began to follow Marilla’s instructions to buy Billy as much time. Matthew arrived with a spool of bandages, and tweezers. 
    “First you need to extract the bullet, then apply pressure.” Gilbert ordered, watching as Marilla carefully pulled the copper bullet out with the rusty tweezers, and since she had such a seamstress’ hands, it seemed as if it caused Billy no discomfort. 
    “I’ll fetch the Avonlea doctor!” Anne called as she sprinted outside of the house and ran towards her mare, Bonney, with her frail hands holding up her stained skirt. When she heard footsteps following her, she looked back to see Gilbert following her with a frown. 
    “I’ll come along with you, Anne!” Gilbert called, as Anne mounted the medium-sized black horse with shaky fingers. Gilbert followed after, and as he mounted, his chest pressed against her back, like puzzle pieces that had been made for eachother.    
    Anne flustered herself for a second, before cursing at herself in her mind for thinking such things while a boy was bleeding out in her den. Anne whistled and pressed her heel against Bonney’s rib, sending the horse into a run in the grazed grass, with the red Anne and Gilbert riding on her back.