I sang to myself quietly (just to stay calm) as I took the bullet out. Quill gasped for air as I moved the tweezers around in the wound. I knew he wasn't as calm as he was acting.
I finally got the bullet out. It was long as hell. I wondered how he didn't die. “You gon be okay, baby," I said kissing him. He nodded slowly. “Come on," I said, helping him up. I took him upstairs to lay down. It was all my fault. No matter what he said, no matter how much he loved me, it was my fault.
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Only His
Teen FictionIvanna Wells was a regular 17 year old girl from Atlanta. She was a senior in high school, cheer captain and a straight A student until she met Donovan Chandler...
