A gun shot goes off. There's no way a paintball gun could make that much noise, have that big of a blast. Jeff looks up to see red ooze over Annie's prostrate body; it's definitely not paint.
"Annie!" he yells, rushing over to her, not even feeling as paint splatters his back and sides.
Jeff sees two men in the white hazmat suits run away.
"J-Jeff? What—oh God—what's going on?" she sobs, clutching her side. "Over—over $100,000?—It hurts so bad Jeff!"
Jeff looks up wildly.
"Someone call an ambulance!"
A passerby sees Annie and immediately dials 9-1-1 at Jeff's insistence.
He puts pressure on Annie's side, trying to staunch the flow of crimson from her body, something he vaguely remembers seeing on some doctor show. Annie's eyes begin to roll into the back of her head.
"Annie! Annie, look at me, stay with me."
Her eyes sluggishly roam back to meet his. They've taken on a glassy sheen to them. Blood bubbles on her pink lips.
"I-I can't feel my legs," she chokes out. "Am I going to die, Jeff? My mom—"
He takes her hand.
"No. You are not going to die on me, on us. What would the group be without you, Annie? Please, just try to focus on me. Try to stay with me."
He's never been this sincere or this scared in his whole entire life. How could the fucking dean have allowed this to happen? This was beyond City College vs. Greendale. This was fucking sick. People were going to start getting hurt like Annie had been. Their next victim could possibly be lying somewhere right now, bleeding out on the floor of this goddamned stupid college like Annie was.
"Jeff, Jeff I'm tired. I feel cold, and it hurts. It hurts so, so bad."
Tears spill down her cheeks as she feebly squeezes Jeff's hand.
The ambulance and EMT arrive ten minutes too late.
They have to pry Annie's body—her body because she's not Annie anymore—away from Jeff, her blood and tears staining his clothes and his heart.
The next day, Jeff Winger drops out of Greendale College.