3. blur

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Was it a dream? Everything seemed to be in slow motion, blurry, the sounds a muffled murmur

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Was it a dream? Everything seemed to be in slow motion, blurry, the sounds a muffled murmur.

Gillian looked around. People walking up and down the street, in and out of the store. The time on her phone. Connor was late as he warned he might be. She was not pissed. Connor was always ten minutes late.

Cars drove by, some of them with the music too loud.

A boy stood before her, his face a big dark stain. He said something, his voice distorted. Meaningless sounds.

Behind the boy, Connor turned around the corner. The only clear, vivid thing in that blur of slow motion. His beautiful face, so not a child anymore. His features those of the young man he'd become. But always her baby. Her greatest, deepest love. Her one reason to live. His amazing dark blue eyes, his smile that made everything right just by curling up his lips.

The stain that was the boy's head came in the way, hiding Connor. He spoke again. No words, just an annoying loud mumbling.

And he poked her chest. Who the hell was he? What the hell did he want? Couldn't he see Connor coming? Nothing else mattered.

She felt the sudden burning prick where the boy had poked her. But the boy was no longer there. He was gone.

Connor was just a few steps away from her when she realized something was off.

The prick spread. It became a throbbing pain piercing her chest.

She glanced down and saw it—a tiny hole burned in her shirt, a thread of blood dripping oh so slowly, staining the cotton fabric in red.

She'd been shot and Connor was there. But the boy was gone, so there was no immediate danger for her son.

She felt no fear. She'd been a cop for too long to be afraid. She'd come to terms long ago with the chance of dying like this.

Her knees faltered.

Connor. She would've liked to hold him one last time. She'd have to settle for knowing he was fine. Nothing else mattered.

She had one last glimpse of his face, so perfectly clear as the blur of people around closed in on her and hid him. She felt so blessed she had the chance of being her mother.

There was one more thing she would've wanted to do before falling. Stupid chicken, always stalling, she got to think as everything went dark. Now it was too late. At least he knew she loved him.

And Connor was fine.

It was okay to let go.

The End - Blackbird book 7Where stories live. Discover now