Her job done, Elizabeth stood up to leave.
'It will be fine, the surgeons are very good. I should know!' she said, smiling.
Mrs Graham squeezed her daughter's hand, much happier than before.
'There you go Jane, nothing to fear,' she said to her daughter, 'thank you,' she said to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth smiled. Heart-warming, definately and it made her want to get home even more. As she turned to leave, a man entered. He did not look violent; he looked like a businessman in a suit. The dark haired woman sitting by the sleeping man looked, then stood up violently, her chair bouncing to the floor.
'M-Martin?' she said, startled, 'what are you doing here?'
Elizabeth looked across, her skin prickling for some reason.
'You are still my wife,' said the suited man, quietly, 'not his.'
Then it happened. Slow motion. A gun pulled from the case and fired. The man in the bed taking two in the chest, dying instantly. The dark haired woman jumping at her husband, tussling with him. He pushed her off.
Elizabeth stood frozen; the images moving in front of her like a film.
Someone was screaming. A movement. The elderly black man crept towards the shooter. The man turned and fired.
The old man clutched at his neck, blood seeping through his dark fingers. He staggered forwards, catching the shooter in a low tackle. They fell sideways together. Elizabeth dropped the chart she held and it clattered to the floor.
Still the shots came.
Jane. Elizabeth felt her limbs move without her say so and was in front of the girl. The man hit the floor and the shooting stopped. Elizabeth's eyes saw the elderly black man crawl out of the door. Martin grabbed his wife by the neck and pulled her to her feet.
'We're not leaving till you say you love me,' he said.