Caught (Camren)

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I turned around slowly. Had Lauren's heart stopped, or was it mine? Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me. Maybe I was trying to hear her voice one last time before it was all over. Everyone was silent. I turned to the bed and there she was, still wrapped up in her gown with the tube connected to her lungs, but a glimmer of green in her eyes lit up the room. She looked around uncertainly, unaware of her surroundings and unaware that she missed the ending of her life by mere milliseconds. I covered my mouth with my hand, too shocked to speak. I could feel the tears coming, but for the first time, they were tears of joy. They were the tears that would announce that everything was over. Everything was okay.

"Camz?" she said again, confirming that my ears had not played a trick on me. "What's going on?"

Her parents looked to me and then back to her, and within a split second I was rushing to her bedside. I stumbled over my own feet and tripped on solid ground trying to make it to her, but I finally scooped her up into my arms. She was warm. She was full of life, and I knew she could feel when she winced in pain.

"My shoulder," she whined.

I released her slightly, never letting go of her but still giving her enough space to pull the gown down to reveal a circular scar where the second bullet had entered her body.

"I'm sorry," I apologized.

She looked up at me- really looked at me- for the first time in weeks, her usually sparkling eyes covered with a glassy film, but alive all the same. Then she cried, finally aware of her surroundings, and I cried, and I was sure somewhere behind us, her parents were crying too.

"It's okay," she sobbed into my shoulder.

Lauren was alive. She was speaking. She was feeling, seeing, and hearing everything around her. She really did fight. She fought until the last second, and whatever part of her that was still clinging to life was enough to bring her back to the surface. For the longest time, I just held her. We cried together. She soaked my shirt through with tears. She mumbled, "Oh my God," over and over again into my shoulder, but eventually, there was no more time for crying. Lauren was alive, and neither of us wanted to waste another second of her life with the tiniest bit of sorrow. I backed away from her bedside and allowed her parents to speak to her. My head was spinning. Everything seemed so surreal. I backed up to the corner of the room until I collided with the wall, and I just watched. I watched as her parents smiled and choked back tears and stroked her hair and told her how much they loved her. I watched as her doctors took her vital signs and dismembered the machine that was keeping her lungs filled with oxygen. I'd expected all of it to occur, but I expected Lauren to be on the other side already, not there in the hospital room, smiling and shooting glances at me every chance she got.

"When do I get to go home?" she asked her doctor.

He stared down at the clipboard in his hand and shook his head. I thought at first it was in disbelief that she was even alive, but I noticed a sadness in his eyes, a disappointment that chilled me to the bone.

"Can you answer some questions for me?" he requested, easily avoiding Lauren's curious gaze.

She nodded, but I knew she saw the loss of hope in his eyes too. I walked back to the bed and took her hand, bracing for whatever was about to come our way.

"Can you tell me your name and age?" the doctor asked.

"Lauren Michelle Jauregui," she answered. "I'm eighteen years old."

"Do you remember what happened to you the night of the shooting?"

"No," she admitted. "I...wasn't in the best state of mind. I just remember that one second I was out of the car, and the next...everything was black."