Chapter 6: Gunshot

P O V: Gabriela Dawson

Seconds turn into minutes, which change to hours that slowly become days. The days morph into weeks that form months. Each second is precious because none of us ever know when that last second will truly be our last. We take for granted that time isn't promised, it isn't guaranteed.

I've always been that person who analyzes each mistake each choice. If Erin and I had been just two seconds earlier. Maybe we would have been on time. Growing up I've heard so many gunshots; I could tell you the differences between a nine mill and a semi by the time I was five. Gangs littered my corners they were always trying to get me to hustle for them, date them. We had to sit on the floor because no matter what time of day or night it was those gangs were always shooting at each other Cause bullets don't care about age, race, gender, who they were meant for.

As a paramedic I've seen the devastation of gunshots "Sylvie no!" today I saw first hand the power of a gun when it's pointed to the head of my best friend. Her eyes looked straight into mine, her voice remained calm eerie as she said to me "Gabby you were right. I don't deserve to live."

If I live to be a hundred I will never get that sound of the gunshot out of my head. It took us just a split second to get around her bed shoving it aside, but that second was a second too late. The bullet tore through her skull into her brain, blood and brain matter splattered the wet sticky mess smeared across my face, eyes. Erin's scream tore through the apartment but no one would hear her not over the blasting music. She fell back in shock as Sylvie's legs collapsed, her body fell like dead weight into my arms.

Her head fell back against my shoulder, I couldn't scream, I couldn't move. All I could do was stare at her body jerking in my arms. The brain is such a fragile being surrounded in tissue, liquid. Bullets have a field day destroying everything and anything in it's path. Their worse than a tornado the shock waves from the impact rip apart anything left from the bullet. After the bullet tears through the brain swelling starts from blood, other fluid. The body goes into a state of shock jerking uncontrollably.

Ten to fifteen seconds is all it takes for a person to die, first the part that controls breathing stops, followed seconds later by the heartbeat. "Sylvie..No… I'm sorry I am so sorry I never..." her eyes roll back blood sputters from her mouth as she coughs. "You did...you..have..to..live..with..the … consequences….I never stopped loving you."

"Sylvie!" I know she's dead. I know there's nothing I can do now; still my arms won't put her down. I can't stop holding her to my body rocking her in my lap.

This is my fault my actions. My words caused this the horror of what I said, how I caused her to feel will echo deeper in my soul longer than the sound of that damn gunshot will ring inside my head or ears.

Words have power, sometimes words can cut deeper to a person soul or psyche than a knife to the skin. If someone is told enough times that their worthless, that their choices don't matter, they start to believe it. It only takes one person to say something that could mean the difference between someone reaching out for help or someone making a choice that can never be taken back.

You never know when someone is acting okay smiling and laughing on the outside may actually be slowly silently dying on the inside. I had no idea Sylvie was in this much pain, when did it start? Could I have sat besides her day in and day out never knowing that she felt this cold and empty. I guess it's true that we can live a thousand lifetimes and never truly know how someone else feels. "Murderer" that's what I called her the reality is though she isn't the murderer. I am. I killed her spirit, her soul, I made her feel alone, unloved, unlovable. How do I live with myself? Do I even deserve to live? The gun lays thrown at her side, my eyes watery take it in "Do it." a voice whispers. It's a cold/ cruel indifferent voice. I've never heard it before.

Your not okay Gabby. Join her, God forgives all sins, he'll forgive your transgressions. Maybe you can make up in heaven. No one down here will ever forgive you for what you did. You shouldn't be forgiven. Did you show any forgiveness towards Sylvie? Why do you deserve it and she didn't? It doesn't matter how many lifetimes you live, this sin, this shame can't be erased. Her parents are now going to have to live with the reality that their child is dead, that they will outlive her. No parent ever wants to out live their child. It's not natural it's not the way our society is suppose to work.

Her eyes are still open why haven't they closed? Their not moving their fixed and dilated their just staring at me haunting me reminding me. "You did this! You killed your best friend. Your words! Your hate, anger and pain caused someone else to take their life. Her hand is limp, her whole body feels heavy, still I slip my hand into hers, she's warm still, color is slowly starting to drain from her. Blood still trickles down her face, my stomach revolts. "I love you Sylvie, I am so sorry." It's all I can repeat over and over as tears cascaded down my checks.

"Sorry isn't enough Gabby, not if you don't learn from your mistakes." My dad's words echo inside my head, my hand reaches for the gun. I've learned alright. I'm done hurting people, I'm done being hurt. Sylvie didn't deserve to die, but I do.