JANE
Rachel spat out several mouthfuls of blood the moment her back hit the ground.
I couldn't help but rush to her, pulling her into my arms. However, she slightly nudged me on the belly and rolled away from my grasp, groaning in pain and spitting out more mouthfuls of blood.
"Rachel," I whispered, standing up and rushing to her again.
"No!" However, before I could get any closer, she yelled and, gritting her teeth, pointed a finger at me. "You, I never thought you could be so stubborn. I told you to leave but you are still here. What the hell is wrong with you? Do you want to die?" Her voice rose an octave as she asked the last question.
"What the hell is wrong with me? Do I want to die?" I repeated her questions and let out a dry chuckle.
How surreal it was that she asked me the
