Sixty Two Seconds

It took sixty two seconds for him to pull the trigger and for the bullet to tear through her skull.

I would know, I counted.

Of those sixty two seconds, it took thirty six seconds for me to run as fast as my bare feet could go to reach her and catch her as she slowly descended to the floor. Her lifeless body was heavy in my arms. Her clear, ocean blue eyes were wide open, still in shock as her soul left. The unique sparkle disappeared.

In only four seconds my knees gave out. I barely felt the fall.

Three seconds later, an extremely heavy feeling filled my chest and consumed me, pulled me down further and further.

It took no more than milliseconds for the tears to blur my vision and for the screams and sobs to escape my dry, cracked lips.

Sixty two seconds was all it took.