*DURRELL*
When we arrive at the hospital, she was taken straight to the emergency unit before I had her moved to a VIP ward and requested for the family doctor.
She is not crying, and that scares me more than anything.
There is blood on her hands. It has dried in thin lines along her fingers, and she is staring at it like she is studying evidence.
“Blood pressure stable,” the nurse assigned to her room is saying.
Stable. As if that word means anything tonight.
“We’ll run an ultrasound,” the nurse continues.
“Now,” I say.
She nods.
I step out into the hallway to answer a call and get updates on the shooting and the Chase family preparations.
When I walk back into the suite moments later, she is sitting upright on the hospital bed. Cleaner now. Someone has wiped the blood from her
