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We sat down in a small little coffee shop area inside the hospital cafeteria. Jerry had kept his promise, and I knew he would. We had only gone downstairs. I looked around at the people sitting near us. Some looked pretty happy, I guess they had just gotten some good news. Others looked how I'm sure we were looking. Sad, gloomy, helpless. I felt bad for them. I knew what it felt like. I shared their pain.
"Alright Sammy, we're just gunna talk, okay?" Jerry says. Sammy. He only calls me that when he knows I'm upset. And, he's one of the only people that ever call me that. I would have smiled if it had been other circumstances. I tried. Or maybe I did. I don't know. But I knew he understood how I was feeling. He wouldn't take it too personally. He knows me. It's alright.
I look at him. He's looking at me. I know he's not going to say anything until I'm ready. He knows me like that, sometimes even better than I know myself. Hell, pretty much always better than I know myself. I nod. I don't want to be doing this, but I know that Jerry knows that. And I know that he doesn't want to be doing this either. We both want to be up in that waiting room, waiting for news about Chris. The sooner we get through this the quicker we can get back up there, and we both know it. I sigh slowly.
Looking at Jerry I nod quickly. "Okay, let's do this, then."
"Alright, just tell me what happened. What was the plan? Who went in first?" Jerry asked. His notebook was out, and he was holding a pencil. I looked at it for a second before speaking. It was weird being on this side of the witness statement taking process. It was strange and I didn't like it. I felt nervous all of a sudden.
"I told Oliver and Chris to go around the front, Traci and I went around the back." I say. "Oliver went in first, I heard him tell the suspect behind the counter to put his gun down. He told him they were the police, and told him to put his gun down and put his hands over his head. He didn't listen, I wasn't in there yet, but I could hear Oliver tell him to put his gun down again." I say, looking at Jerry. He writes down a few things and then looks up at me. "So Oliver made it known that he was a police officer?"
I look at Jerry for a second. Is he serious? He understands just by my look. He always does.
"Sam, I know. But I have to ask." Jerry says, and his voice is apologetic. I understand. He's just trying to do his job. He doesn't want to do this anymore than I do.
"Yes, he did." I say. "Then I entered the back with Traci, we were quiet, we were trying to sneak up behind the suspect. Oliver told him to put his gun down again, and he didn't listen. He didn't know I was there, and then I grabbed his arms from behind. I started to cuff him. Then I heard-" I stop. I didn't really want to talk about Chris getting shot. I know this is what I have to do, this is the whole point of the statement taking, but I don't want to do it.
Jerry knows this. He's quiet for a few seconds. He doesn't need to say anything, I know what he means. But he does anyway. "Take your time"
I nod. "I know" My voice catches in my throat. I clear it quickly, hoping that Jerry hasn't heard, but I know he has. I look at him quickly. He's not looking at me. He's looking at his notes. But I know that he heard me. He's a good friend.
I look at Jerry again and a second later he looks up at me. He offers me a small smile. I nod. I try to smile back. Try.
"Ugh, next I hear Chris yell to me. 'Sir'. He called me 'sir'." I say. My voice is better than it was a second ago. I know it's getting worse though. I almost laugh as I think about Chris calling me sir. Jerry smiles.
"Chris called you sir?" Jerry asks. I nod. "Weird, isn't it?" I say. Jerry nods. I can tell he's trying to laugh. If it was different we'd both be laughing. Making fun of the kid for calling me sir. If it was different. But its not. And it's painful because we both know it.
I look at Jerry again, then look away quickly, and he does the same. "What next?"
"I barely even turned before I heard gunshots. My back was to the second gunman. I can only assume that he, ugh, he tried to shoot me. Chris tried to stop him. He tried to save me. And he got shot." My voice is starting to waver. But it's not bad enough that I can't conceal it yet.
Jerry starts talking immediately, and I knew that he would. "Sammy, this isn't your fault."
I shrug. "It's not?" How is this not my fault? Chris jumped in front of a gun to save me. Me. He tried to save me. And he got shot.
"Sam, don't do that" Jerry shakes his head. "You'll destroy yourself trying to think of what could have been."
"What could have been?" I ask. "What should have been. I should have saved him. I should have protected him. I should have taken that bullet." I say, the anger in my voice barely conceals the wavering. I can't look at Jerry, I know I'll lose it.
"So it would have been you in that bed? No. Sam, c'mon. How would that have helped anything?" Jerry asks, that tone of trying to convince me of something is clear. I shake my head.
"It would have been better for me. For Chris" I say.
Jerry shakes his head. "Sam, stop. This isn't your fault. You didn't shoot him. You did everything you could. He'll be okay."
I just look at him. "You think so?"
Jerry doesn't say anything back. I know what that means. So does he. I look back at his notebook and gesture to it with my hands. "The sooner we finish this the sooner we can go back upstairs and wait for news." I notice the blood on my hands while gesturing with them. So does Jerry. We both stare at them for a while. Then we look at each other. We know how the other is feeling. Neither one of us say what we know the other is thinking. We don't have to. And we don't want to.
"Okay, so let's finish this." Jerry says, he clears his throat. I nod. "Okay."
"So you heard a gunshot and turned around?" Jerry asks.
"Yes. I heard a gunshot, it was the suspect's, then I heard another one, it must have been Oliver, and then another that came from my right, it must have been Traci. Then I turned around more, saw the suspect with the gun, I fired four shots, Oliver fired another, and so did Traci. But the gunman managed to shoot another one, it hit Chris in the leg. The first one the guy got off hit Chris in the stomach."
Jerry nodded as he wrote some more things down. He looked up at me after a few seconds and I continued. "Then, we cleared the gun. I ran to Chris. I bent down. He was bleeding a lot. I pressed my hands to his stomach. Traci was holding his neck. She got to him first. Then I did. I pressed my hands to his stomach. I asked if he could hear me. He told me he could. His voice was weird. Strained, raspy, gasping, desperate. I told him not to talk. Then I ordered Traci to go get the first aid kit."
"Okay, so Traci went to go get the first aid kit. Where was Oliver?" Jerry asked.
"Chris groaned, he saw how much he was bleeding. I told him it looked worse than it was. But I have no idea. I told him he'd be okay. Then Oliver came over and asked where he'd been hit. Chris told him the stomach. And I told him the leg. Chris didn't know he'd been shot in the leg. He told us he couldn't feel it." I say slowly. I look at Jerry and he is looking back at me. He stops writing, his pencil stops moving.
"He couldn't feel his leg?" Jerry asks, the wavering in his voice getting more noticeable. He knew what that meant. We both did. I just nod my head. Jerry sighs.
"I told Chris he'd be okay. Chris tried to talk, but he started coughing up blood. Traci still wasn't back with the first aid kit yet. Oliver told Chris to keep looking at him, and told him he'd be okay. We knew Chris was going to start choking on his blood though, so we decided to lift him up onto Oliver's lap. Oliver was behind Chris's head. Traci came back in the store and gave me the first aid kit, and I ripped it open quickly."
Jerry nodded. I knew he didn't know what to say. He probably didn't know if he should say anything. I looked at him, nodded, telling him it was alright, and continued.
"Chris started to close his eyes. I told him not too, and so did Oliver. We told him to keep looking at us." I dumped a few bags of clotting salt on his stomach. Chris spit more blood out of his moth. The ambulance was taking forever. Chris started to close his eyes again. I told him not to, and that it was an order. The kid loves to follow them."
"I know he does" Jerry said.
"You know what he said? 'I'm sorry' He told me he was sorry. What does he have to be sorry for?" I asked. "If anything I should be apologizing to him."
Jerry shook his head. "Don't do that, Sam. This isn't your fault. What happened next?"
"Traci came back in from calling the ambulance. She started to get upset. I yelled at her. I told her it wasn't helping. I told her to help, to use her hands, apply pressure to Chris's leg, as much as possible."
"You were doing your job, you were concerned about Chris." Jerry said. He knew that I felt bad for yelling at Traci.
"I feel like I need to apologize" I said.
"She'll understand" Jerry said. I nod quickly. "I know she will, but still." I say.
"I tried to stop the bleeding more. Chris started closing his eyes. I yelled at him. I yelled at him and kept yelling at him." Why did I yell at him? Was I frustrated? Did I not realize it? Maybe I thought he'd take me more seriously?
"You did what you had to do" Jerry said. I shrug. "He kept looking at you, right?
I nod. "Yea"
"Then it was worth it, right then?" Jerry asked. I shrug.
"Then we could hear the ambulance." I say. "Traci went out to get them, and Oliver and I kept trying to stop the bleeding. The paramedics came, I told them about his injuries, and helped put him in the ambulance." I said.
Jerry nods at me. I could have just stopped there. But for some reason I keep going. "I told him to keep looking at me" I say, and Jerry looks at me. "And he did. All the way to the hospital."
"He's going to be okay" Jerry says, his voice almost wavering as bad as mine is. And, I wonder if he is saying that because he actually believes it, or because he knows it's what we both need to hear.
I look at Jerry, and then I sigh. I need to keep going. I need to tell him more. "Then, I held his hand. I squeezed it. He wouldn't let go. He wouldn't let go of me. I didn't want to leave him. I knew that as long as I was in his sight, as long as I could make him look at me, make him squeeze my hand, that he'd be okay. I didn't want to leave him." And suddenly my voice breaks. I try to clear my throat, but it doesn't work, and I don't really care. I still want to talk more.
"And every time I try to think about something else, I can't" I say, the emotion is full in my voice. It sounds strange, and scary. The tears in my eyes are getting hot, and they are coming dangerously close to slipping down my face. I look at Jerry, I don't care if he sees.
"I tried to stop the bleeding, but he was just bleeding so much. And he was trying so hard not to be scared. But he was. I was. I didn't know what to do. I wanted so badly to know what to do, I wanted to be able to help him. And I couldn't. No matter what I did, he was still in pain, he was still hurt." I say, my voice mixed with my tears, my voice sounds odd, and I'm crying, and I don't care.
"I didn't know what to do. He needed me to help him, and I couldn't. I wanted to be able to help him. I was scared. And I didn't know what to do. Chris was so scared, he was bleeding so much. There was blood everywhere." My voice is barely distinguishable through my heavy tears. But I don't care.
"There was so much blood. So much blood everywhere. And he's so young, he's so young. And he might not make it. All he was trying to do was protect people, and now he might die. I can't get the image of his face, so scared, out of my head. I can't stop hearing his voice, how scared and desperate he was." I say, looking up at Jerry for the first time. "Just let it all out" Jerry says, his voice sounding close to mine.
I notice that he has stopped writing, but I can see that his hand is shaking. I look up at him, there are tears in his eyes. He puts his arm on my shoulder. I cry even harder. He leans over and hugs me, a big brotherly hug. And I cry. And I cry. And I cry. And I cry. I can feel him hug me tighter, my shoulders shaking, and I can feel his arms around my back. Then I can feel his tears drip onto my bloodstained shirt.
And this is what is so special about being best friends. We were both allowed to let it out. We could stand there and cry into each other's shoulders. Let it all out. And we knew, that neither one of us would tell anyone else. We weren't going to tell anyone else. This would stay between us, we weren't going to tell anyone else. We could let it all out and not be afraid, because we knew that we weren't going to tell anyone else. I knew he wasn't going to tell anyone about my wavering voice and my heavy tears, just as I wasn't going to tell anyone about his shaking hand and his crying. We could let it all out.
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