„Take the gun down."
Bobbys voice was silent and calm. Alex stood behind him. Trembling. Her hands were full of blood. She was pale and quiet. It was all like a dream. She could see Bobbys face. He was looking as if there was no man with a gun. As if he didn't point a gun on him.
She watched him talking to the guy but she didn't hear what he was saying. She just watched. She watched his hands as he tried to take the gun away. She watched his lips move as he talked to him. She watched his broad shoulders and noticed that he was squirming in pain. Suddenly she saw that his white shirt was red. Red from blood. His blood. He was holding his left hand over his right shoulder. He had turned a bit so that she couldn't see the wound.
She felt hot tears running down her face. This was all her fault. He wouldn't even be here when she hadn't been so stubborn. They fought. She was mad. She stopped listening to him. She stopped thinking. Did what he didn't want to do.
She drove to his apartment but he wasn't there. She found him in the garage. She saw his gun and drew her weapon. More correctly, she wanted to. But there was none. She had forgotten her gun. She had left it on her desk. During her whole carrier she never once forgot her gun.
He was shouting at her. Waving with his gun and shouting. She didn't know what to do. She was scared.
He fired his gun and she screamed. She talked to him. Tried to calm him.
Two hands wrapped around her shoulders and pushed her gently out of the way. Her tears were falling down. She thought she could hear them falling to the ground.
She watched the ground. She saw his feet stumbling towards her. She watched as other feet came and took his away from her. She watched the ground as such feet took her away, too. And when an ambulance drove her to the hospital, she watched the ground.
The drive to hospital was long. A doctor looked her over. He said she was fine but he wanted her not to stay alone. She was shocked, he said. She couldn't do a thing alone now, he said. And he was right. She couldn't function alone. Not without him.
It would be her fault when he died. She would have ended both their lives.
She knew that the shot had hit him. She heard him coming, she heard the shot and she heard a body falling to ground. She knew it was him. Deep down she knew. But she didn't want to believe it. She wanted to pretend. To pretend that this was a dream. That everything was a dream.
She closed her eyes and pretended. She closed them and willed them to open to another world. She wanted to see Bobby, alive, beside her, with her; when she opened her eyes.
But all she saw were the white walls and a doctor stepping out of Bobbys room. She didn't want to look in his eyes. They always told the truth.
They had told her that her husband had died.
She didn't want to see the death of the only man she truly loved in those eyes.
She just wanted to pretend.