Author's note: Thanks for all the reviews! When I said review I didn't expect to get like 13 within the first 2 hours of updating :) So here's another ch, posted way sooner than I originally planned to update.

Chapter 17

Graham opened his eyes. His head spun dizzily as he adjusted to his surroundings. He blinked, confused. What was he doing at the station? The last thing he remembered was leaving Granny's with two cups of coffee and some donuts, fumbling around for his car keys and trying to balance the coffee and pastries. Dropping the keys, and then bending down to retrieve them from the icy pavement.

As his vision cleared up, he looked around. What'd happened to this place? The once immaculately neat station (for someone who kept her car so messy, Emma was pretty OCD about neatness at work) looked like a wreck. Chairs were strewn around, the huge pile of paperwork once balanced on Emma's desk was scattered around like confetti, and there were dents in the wall. It looked like there'd been a struggle. And a pretty violent one too. Graham looked around some more for clues as to what had happened, wondering where Emma was. There was no way she'd allow this to happen. He noticed that his nose was throbbing, and when he reached up he knew it was broken. Maybe he'd fallen over and blacked out outside? More importantly, where was Emma? Ever since she'd rejected him, he'd been lying low and avoiding her, but that didn't mean that he loved her any less. In fact, he ignored her because it hurt so much to look at her. The woman he loved so much.

And that's when he saw it. He gasped out loud in horror, grabbing onto the wall for support when he saw Emma, lying on the ground in a pool of blood. Nausea forced him to turn away, but he was unable to just leave her. He tiptoed closer to her. On further inspection, he could see a deep cut on her head, and dark purple bruises beginning to bloom on every inch of exposed skin, especially her neck. But worst of all was the wound on her chest. Blood seeped out of it, staining her tank top and the tiled floor. Graham was no doctor, but he knew that if he didn't get her to a hospital soon, she'd be dead. If she wasn't already. Without caring about the blood that would surely stain his pants, he frantically ripped off his jacket and kneeled down next to her, trying to staunch the blood flow with his right hand as he fumbled for his cell phone with his left hand.

A loud, raw cry of agony and guilt erupted from his lips as he looked down in his right hand to see the gun clenched in it.

Author's note: Sorry for shorter ch.