"We've got a female, 16 years old, gun shot wound to the chest, massive amount of blood lost. She's a type 1 diabetic", the paramedic listed off as he pushed the ambulance bed down the corridor.

Charlie walked along side, keeping in pace with the movement of the bed. She held on to Ruby's hand as tightly as she could, afraid to let go. With her other hand she stroked her daughters forehead, speaking words of encouragement to stay alive. When they reached the theater doors, the nurse stopped in front of Charlie, blocking her path. Ruby's hand slipped out of her grip as the paramedics and doctors continued past the double doors. Her heart sang.

"I'm sorry, you can't go any further this is a restricted area", she said.

"It's my daughter", she said, angry that the nurse wouldn't let her proceed. "I can't leave her on her own!".

The nurse looked a little stunned that the young, pretty woman standing in front of her was the mother of a teenager. But she was most sympathetic. She gave Charlie's arm a gentle stroke to comfort her,

"I can understand you'r scared. But the best thing you can do for your daughter now is let the doctors help her. I'll come find you as soon as I know more", the nurse said, and with that she turned on her heel and burst her way through the double doors down to the operating theatre.

Charlie stood motionless. Clasping her shaiking hands together. A tear slid down her cheek. Ahe looked down at her hands. They were covered in blood. Ruby's blood. She turned around and looked for a bathroom and found one just a couple of feet away. She walked with unusual pace towards the door and forced it open. She walked up to the sink and turned on the warm water. She squirted some soap onto her hands from the soap dispenser and started to scrub her hands agressively to get the her blood stained hands clean.

She watched as the watched as the clear water turned red and made it's way down the drain. She tried to hold back the tears. When she was done she tore some tissue paper off the role and dried her hands. She dumped the it in the bed when she was done. She leaned over the sink, both hands gripping either side of the rim. She had a knot in her stomach and she felt sick. She looked up at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were completely red. She looked shattered. Just then she looked down. The once baby blue police shirt was red.

Charlie began to breath heavily. She stood up straight and began to unbutton her top, but she couldn't, her hands would not stop shaking. Getting angry she tore open her shirt, all the buttons bursting off in different directions, revealing a black tank top. She pulled the shirt off her body. She couldn't bear to wear something that reminded her of the shooting. She rolled the shirt up in a ball and dumped in the bin, slamming the lid down. She sobbed. She put her hand over her mouth to silence herself. But couldn't. She was overcome with emotion. She turned her back to the wall and slid down along it. She placed her head in her hands and cried.

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