𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚢-𝚏𝚒𝚟𝚎

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This couldn't be happening

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This couldn't be happening.

John B refused to believe that he just watched Affinity, the girl that meant more than just the world to him, take her final breath.

His pounding heart waited with torturing anticipation as the doctor approached Affinity's still body lying upon the table. There was no rise in her chest, no twitch in her brow that always meant she was anxious or uncertain, no color in her once tan face. Every second lingered into feeling like painful hours. All he wanted was to see those hazel orbs again...and if he ever did, he would be sure that they would never again be filled with tears because of his recklessness, his stupidity, his carelessness that put her in that situation to even get shot in the first place.

Never again.

The doctor scrambled around the room, trying to find his Ambu bag, a device that could manually put breaths in the girl's lungs. He snapped John B out of his gaze of shock.

"Listen to me boy," he boomed. "You know how to do CPR?"

John B nodded frantically, even though he truly didn't. He folded his hands over the top of one another and placed them over Affinity's sternum.

Doctor Nygard placed the mouthpiece over Affinity's lips and pumped the full bag twice. "Now!" He commanded John B.

John B rose the tips of his toes and let the weight of his shoulders shoved into Affinity's chest. Her body moved with every one of his movements, but none of which were voluntary on her behalf. He stopped and Dr. Nygard returned to his task. The two men alternated back and forth, hoping that the rhythmic sequence would grant Affinity life again. John B winced at the cracking sounds that arose from her ribs. At least one had to be broken at this point, maybe two.

John B's eyes shifted from her expressionless features and looked over at the monitor, seeing that there weren't any blips in the taunting green line. The knot in his stomach had now reached his throat. It wasn't something he could swallow or ignore. The sensation only grew, burning away the hope in his heart. His head flashed with short clips of her smile, her laugh...and then her teary eyes.

She had tried to tell him that she couldn't go any further. He didn't listen to her blatant cry out for just a mere moment of rest, comfort, or someone to just hold her for a second after losing her father, best friends, and honestly, herself. He broke her.

You did this. You killed her.

And self-destruction was going to be his own demise.

Her father was going to wake up daughterless.

How could you do this? You couldn't step out of yourself just once?

The doctor stopped what he was doing and set the bag to the side. "I'm sorry, kid. There's nothing I can do. She just lost too much blood." His face became solemn, trying to avoid any eye contact with John B. "I'll leave you with her."

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐀 𝐏𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 // 𝘫𝘰𝘩𝘯 𝘣Where stories live. Discover now