I stood there, my breath shallow and hands stained with blood as I watched the garage entrance waiting for the ambulance to arrive. I had made calls, but my air pick-up contact was not picking up. I couldn't blame him, it was too late in the night to be bugging the hell out of a family man.
Someone was yelling at the hotel gate. A security guard was speaking frantically into a radio, another on his phone, probably calling backup that should’ve come minutes ago.
In all of these, my focus is mainly on the blood stains on my palms.
Julius’s blood.
A swarm of journalists arrived seconds before the ambulance did. Tires screeched, sirens blared, and the paramedics rushed to the scene.
“Please step away ma'am,” I heard voices echo, as they took over from John and me. My life was almost pass
