Don't own anything.
Fingers brushing her hair back, cool to the touch.
Worried voices, calling out her name.
Yelling for an ambulance, softly telling her to stay with them.
Her boyfriend, holding her until she went into surgery.
Doctors, operating on her unconscious body.
Bullets, the ones that will cause her death are being pulled out.
Eyes, watching, seeing, hoping she'll be alright.
Ears, hearing the commands, they ones they wish will save her life.
Reassurances, spoken to encourage the fact she'll pull through.
Emotionless faces, searching for clues, ideas to who did this.
Breaths, entering in and out of her body, also being held be her loved ones.
Beep, the flat sound that signals she is gone.
Tears, pouring down the faces of her friends and family.
Anger, at her killers, at the unfairness of it all.
Sadness, the pain and hurt that will always remain.
Vengeance, a relentless pursuit of the murderers.
Relief that they captured them and no more good guys died.
Peace, her spirit and memory can rest, they can bury her with no regrets.
*T*