I stood in the doorway, contemplating running back inside and nose-diving under the covers; I could stay there until the sun decided to come back. Pulling the hood over my head, I hitched my bag further up on my shoulder, shoved my hands in my pockets, and began the trudge toward campus.
I couldn’t shake a sense of foreboding that clung to the air, pecking at the back of my brain. I pushed it aside and pulled my hood further up. It was starting to rain again—the annoying, barely there rain that just spit at you enough to annoy the shit out of you.
I turned the corner and spotted Sandra hovering under a subway entrance. “You do love me!” She gave me a peck on the cheek and hooked her arm with mine.
“Yes, I do. I’m not a total bitch.” I squeezed her arm. “Shall we?”
Huddling into each other, we maneuvered the slick New York City streets in a swift walk toward campus. Sandra chattered the whole way while I tried my darndest to dodge raindrops—hopping over puddles and tossing her long curls over my head to shield myself. We probably should have been more cautious, but feeling lighthearted with her, I was reveling in the fact that I was enjoying the rain for the first time and wasn’t paying much attention to anything else. Stupid.
The campus was in sight. Just a few more feet. “Come on! I’ll race ya.” I dropped Sandra’s arm and took off in a sprint. Hopping onto the curb, I completed a spin when headlights caught my attention. Fast moving headlights. Barreling straight for her.
Sandra.
Time stood still. Everything slowed while the pounding of blood in my ears intensified so it was all I heard banging on top of white-noise humming in the background. The air in my lungs pushed up and trapped in my throat. Tingles started at my spine and prickled down my legs making it an effort to put one in front of the other and force them to work right and ultimately, they failed.
I watched it happen.
Paralyzed and unable to do anything to stop it. Sandra’s face contorted, registering the panic in mine. Her mouth dipped at the corners as her head slowly turned to focus on my line of vision.
It was too late.
Ginger curls.
All I saw were ginger-colored curls flying in the air before landing in a motionless heap on the sidewalk a few feet away.
“Sandra!” My voice shrilled in my ears, my feet finally remembering how to work. “No!” I scrambled to her side, scooping the top half of her limp body into my arms. I tried to assess her in any way I could. Smoothing her hair from her bloodied forehead, I prayed for any sign of life.
Her eyes were partially open—slits of emerald blankly looking back at me through streaks of crimson. “Sandra? I’m here with you, sweetie. Can you hear me? Please wake up.” I cried, begging her. “Help! Somebody do something!” A frenzied panic whipped around in my chest.
A crowd began to gather, voices asking questions, but I barely noticed through the fuzz in my head. All I could do was rock. Back and forth. Rocking her in my arms
It felt like an eternity before I heard the sirens. Flashing, swirling lights approached and then the doors flew open. Instantly they were on us. Hands everywhere. All over me. Removing me. Dragging me away and laying her flat on the ground. I pulled my knees to my chest, tears mixed with the rain streaking down my face, and I watched and prayed. Why couldn’t I have yelled to her to get out of the way? This is all my fault.
“No!” I screeched, my own voice piercing my eardrums. Crawling, I tried to get to where they were frantically pumping on her chest, feeling the bile rise and pool at the back of my throat. Each compression felt as though it was stabbing me in the heart. “Please, Sandra, please!” I hoped she could hear me.
This can’t be happening.
With a gurgling sputter, the best sound I’d ever heard escaped her lips, and her chest heaved, choking. My body fell forward, doubling over onto my knees. Oh, thank God.
The paramedics worked desperately to stabilize her—strapping her to a board and immobilizing her neck before covering her face with an oxygen mask and hauling her into the ambulance.
It was then the police officer noticed me. “Miss, are you okay? Were you hurt? Paramedic! I need another paramedic!” he shouted over his shoulder, bending to appraise me.
I shook my head and whispered, “I’m fine. Just take care of her.”
And then I shut down.
“Thank you, officer. I’ve got her.” Blake was out of breath, his voice laced with worry as he squatted to my eye level. “You okay, Angel? Anything hurt?” He grabbed at my hands, my arms, my face, looking for signs of injury.
I looked up through soaked, swollen eyes and shook my head, unable to speak.
The police officer interrupted Blake’s assessment. “We’re going to need your statement, miss.”
Blake laced his fingers with mine, showing me his support. I nodded. “Anything that’ll help.”