Because it's my birthday, I thought I would write a chapter, on this first day of my fifteenth year.
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The gun shot echoed throughout the room, and then there was silence. Ryan, holding Oliver down to the ground, looked around to see if anyone was hurt. Alex was crying on the bed, crouched down, not a scratch on him. Marissa was lying backwards on the bed, he sighed a breath of relief, thinking no one had been hurt. Then he noticed the growing red stain on her white silk nightgown, right above her heart. Ryan panicked; run to Marissa and try to help her, or hold Oliver down to ensure no other harm would be done. He knew he shouldn't move Marissa, that it would create more harm, so he pinned Oliver down to the ground and called out to Alex. Ryan realized the phone cord couldn't stretch all the way towards him, so he tried to get Alex's help.
"Lexi," he had called out. "Lexi, stop crying, please; I need you to help Mommy and me." Alex gasped for breath and his chest heaved but the tears had stopped. "Go to the phone." Ryan instructed as Alex did as he was told, "dial 911." A tear ran down Alex's rosy cheek. "Alex, what's wrong?" "I didn't learn number nine, yet." He said starting to cry again. "Don't worry, just look for the upside down six, okay? And then dial a one and a one." "Okay, Daddy, Now what?" "Tell the lady that there is a man with a gun and he has shot your mother, and your father is here and is holding the man down." Alex repeated what is father said, stuttering a bit out of fear. A few minutes later, the sirens of the police were heard and the flashing lights overwhelmed them all.
A few hours later, Ryan sat in the waiting room, after talking to the police about what had happened. Alex was lying in Ryan's lap and the rest of the family was on their way. And Ryan waited, hoping for the best, but expecting the worst.
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Marissa sat in the hospital bed, holding a healthy Jack in her arms, stroking his tiny fingers and toes, watching him sleeping. She smoothed down his dirty blonde hair, a brownish gold shade and her eyes then diverted to the awake twin. Alex was bigger, a tiny smile danced across his eyes, big and blue, wide and confused. Marissa admired her children and then noticed the steady breathing of the delicate baby on her left, Jack, had slowed. She called out for a nurse but nobody heard her. She put Alex down in the crib and carried Jack down the empty hallway, calling out in desperation. Suddenly, Jack grew before her eyes, into a six year old, a more short and fragile version of Alex, an innocent and vulnerable side to him. Suddenly, the voice she had longed to hear, spoke. "Mommy," it whispered barely, she leaned down, eyelevel with him. "Mommy," it repeated, "I understand. I understand what you have been going through, but Alex needs you. Daddy needs you. I love you but they need you more. I have you right here," he said in a much too grown up voice, pointing to his heart. "Go. Go back to them." And Marissa eyes fluttered open, the blinding lights of the surgery room confronting her. The flat line, suddenly gaining life, gaining hope.