Angel on a Mission

Chapter 26

Third Person's POV

The air was thick with the scent of rain, mingling intoxicatingly with the rich, damp earth beneath the bridge where Elle lay motionless and alone, a tragic silhouette against the cold, hard ground. The rhythmic sound of raindrops could be heard in the distance, but from here, it was nothing more than background music to the quiet chaos of her fading consciousness.

A cool, restless breeze whispered past, stirring her bloodstained clothes as her chest rose and fell with weak, labored breaths. Each inhale felt like a monumental effort, her body trapped in a state of despair, and although the pain dulled slightly—a cruel trick of fate—her limbs remained lifeless as her mind ebbed and flowed helplessly between fleeting moments of consciousness and the vast, insidious abyss that threatened to swallow her whole.

Far away, in a reality startlingly different from hers, Alexander stirred restlessly in his sleep, haunted by a dream that felt uncomfortably real, tugging at the edges of his subconscious and refusing to let go.

There she was—Elle.

Yet, she did not appear as he had seen her before, vibrant and full of life. Instead, she lay hurt and badly wounded, her skin unnaturally pale, barely clinging to the fragile thread of life. Blood seeped from her wounds, staining her clothes and painting a chilling portrait of desperation.

Her once fierce and determined eyes fluttered weakly, clouded by pain and hopelessness, revealing a vulnerability that shattered his heart into a thousand irreparable pieces.

“Elle!” Alexander’s voice resonated through the dream, thick with desperation as he tried to reach for her, to bridge the insurmountable distance that stretched between them like an invisible barrier.

Each frantic step sent waves of anxiety coursing through him, yet no matter how fast he moved, she seemed to drift further away, a haunting specter slipping through his fingers, leaving only despair in her wake.

“Help… me… please,” her voice, fragile and strained, struggled to cut through the heavy, suffocating air. With each soft plea, her body began to slump, her breathing becoming more erratic, more fragile, as though a final exhale could extinguish the flickering flame of her existence.

Then came the worst sound of all—a final, sharp breath escaping her lips, a desperate whisper swallowed by the stillness.

Startled and horrified, Alexander jolted awake, his heart pounding violently against his ribs like a caged animal desperate to break free. As he sat up abruptly, gripping the bed sheets tightly, panic struck him like a lightning bolt. The haunting image of Elle, wounded and barely alive, seared into his mind like a brand, refusing to fade or allow him the solace of denial.

Without a moment's hesitation, he threw on a dark hoodie and a pair of sweatpants as he hastily snatched his car keys from the bedside table, and bolted out of the house, a whirlwind of anxiety and determination driving him forward.

It was deep into the night, the world outside cloaked in shadows, yet the passage of time felt meaningless; all that mattered was urgency, the overwhelming need to see Elle.

The bridge from his dream was painfully familiar; he had passed it countless times before, but never had he felt its significance weigh so heavily on his heart. The memory of their last encounter at school had flashed through his mind—her laughter ringing through the air as she talked to her friends and the people around her, the way sunlight danced in her eyes, illuminating the world around her.

He’d never imagined that those moments of Elle would someday be eclipsed by such a horrific scene that was in his dream.

“Please…” he muttered urgently to himself, desperation clawing at him. “Don’t die, Elle.”

Upon reaching the bridge, Alexander leaped from his car, heart pounding in his chest as adrenaline coursed through his veins. He sprinted down the slope beside the bridge, scanning the shadows that enveloped her in helpless despair. That was when he saw her, and the sight was as devastating as the dream had promised it would be.

Elle was sprawled there, just as he had seen her—still, silent, and unmoving.

“Elle!” he shouted, his voice as desperate as a man standing on the edge of a cliff, trembling before the abyss. He rushed to her side, shaking her gently, pleading silently for her to respond, to fight against the darkness.

How could this happen? Not her. Not like this.

“Elle, wake up! Come on! You need to wake up! Elle!” Panic slipped into his voice, a rising tide as he gripped her shoulders, his fingers trembling against her cold skin.

Her body felt lifeless, like a doll stripped of vitality, but he pressed his fingers to her neck, searching desperately for a pulse amidst the silence. It was faint, a mere whisper of life.

In that moment, the weight of despair threatened to crash him.

“s**t—” Without wasting another precious second, he scooped her into his arms, heart racing as he bolted back toward his car, driven by sheer determination.

As he cradled her against him, fragments of her moments when he watched her from a distance flooded his thoughts: the way she interacted with his younger sisters, her warm smile that could light up even the darkest corners of the world, the spark of enthusiasm and curiosity in her green eyes as she watched the people around her, the way her voice always sounded so soft and cheerful as she talked with everyone around her.

Alexander had doubted Elle’s whole persona, and he had convinced himself that he couldn’t trust her just like he couldn’t trust anybody.

But he had no real reason to think that she wasn’t a good person. It’s just what he wanted to believe because of his trust issues.

“Hang in there, Elle. I’m taking you to the hospital. You’re going to be okay,” he whispered urgently, his voice shaking.

He laid her carefully across the passenger seat, fastening her seatbelt with trembling hands before lowering the seat back to ensure her comfort and safety. Then he slid into the driver’s seat and sped towards the hospital, sweat trickling down his brow, keeping his eyes on the road, his one hand on the steering wheel and the other on her chest as he felt her heart, praying for her to take another breath.

The drive to the hospital felt like a whirlwind of chaos and urgency. Neon lights flickered overhead as Alexander rushed inside, yelling for help, the adrenaline coursing through him, making it feel as though he were moving in slow motion.

Medical personnel rushed to their aid, their movements precise and practiced, whisking her away on a gurney while Alexander felt a wave of helplessness wash over him.

He stood by the emergency room entrance, blood still stained on his hands, feeling utterly lost. The white walls and sterile smells made him feel both claustrophobic and dizzy, yet he couldn’t move from his spot; he didn’t know what to do next.

As he jolted back to reality, he forced himself to follow the medical staff, desperation driving him as he clung to the hope that he could somehow do something else to help.

Then, amidst the cacophony of beeping monitors and hurried voices, the heart monitor erupted into a sharp, continuous beep.

Flatline.

“No,” Alexander whispered, his body moving forward on instinct, propelled by an unyielding need to save her. He wasn’t even sure if he was breathing; his mind was screaming in a tormenting mix of disbelief and fear.

He watched in horror as doctors and nurses frantically worked to resuscitate her. Their hands moved quickly, efficiently, yet he felt paralyzed. “Come on, Elle,” he muttered, fists clenched tightly at his sides, instinctively willing her to fight back. To survive.

A shock of electricity surged through her body as they applied the defibrillator. No response.

Again.

And again.

Then—a beep. A single, blessed beep.

Her heartbeat flickered back to life, weak but undeniably there.

Alexander exhaled sharply, feeling the unbearable weight of tension lift slightly from his chest as relief flooded over him.

“She’s back,” one of the doctors announced, relief flooding her voice, cutting through the chaos like a warm light piercing through the darkest storm.

The rest became a blur. Elle was rushed into surgery, and Alexander found himself standing in the waiting room, pacing like a caged animal, his body thrumming with anxiety and worry.

Time felt elastic as hours stretched into what felt like a lifetime.

Alexander kept pacing the waiting room, each tick of the clock resounding in his ears like a countdown to a conclusion he desperately hoped wouldn’t come. The bright fluorescent lights flickered overhead, their harsh glow a stark contrast to the warmth of the sunlit days that passed in the prior days.

His phone buzzed insistently in his pocket, and he pulled it out, seeing his mother’s name flashing on the screen. He answered immediately, his voice strained and tight.

“Alex? Where are you? I woke up and checked on you and your sisters, but you weren’t in your room. It’s 4am in the morning, young man. Where could you be at this hour?” her voice laced with concern.

“Mom, I’m at the hospital” Alexander said.

“What? Why are you in the hospital? Are you okay? What happened?”

“It’s Elle. I…uh…. I found her” he replied, a hint of tremor evident in his voice.

“What? What happened? Is she okay?”

The urgency in his mother’s tone mirrored his own rising panic.

“It’s a long story, but she’s in surgery. Please, don’t tell my sisters yet. They’ll just worry too much.” He said.

His mother fell silent for a moment, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.

“Alright. But we’re coming there.”

With that, Alexander hung up, running a trembling hand down his face, feeling the exhaustion seep into his bones yet knowing he couldn’t rest. Not now.

His mind was racing through the implications of what had happened. His dream had shown him something too vivid, too unsettling to dismiss, and if Elle didn’t make it, it would tear through mercilessly.

He could already feel the cold weight of loss wrapping around him, and he fought against it, pushing the thought down deep—until the sound of a familiar voice jolted him from his spiraling thoughts.

“Alexander!” a familiar voice called.

His mother arrived, looking frazzled yet determined, her eyes brimming with concern. “What happened? Where is Elle?”

“She’s inside. I don’t what happened to her, Mom” he admitted, voice trembling. “I don’t know what happened before I found her under a bridge, and… she was… she was just there.” The words hung heavily in the air between them, their weight suffocating.

“She was barely alive. I don’t know what she went through or why she was where she was” Alexander explained.

His mother’s face etched worry and concern; she pulled her son close, a comforting presence allowing him to lean into her for a moment of solace.

“Just breathe, honey. You did everything you could. She’s in good hands now,” she said, her voice steady yet edged with fear.

Moments turned into hours, but eventually, a doctor emerged, his expression serious yet calm.

“She’s stable now. The patient’s injury was from a gunshot wound. The surgery went well, but she’ll need time to recover,” he informed Alexander, and then breathed out as he hadn’t realized he was holding his breath for a moment as his senses were flooded with relief.

As the doctor explained the severity of Elle’s injuries, Alexander’s mind raced. He couldn’t bear the thought of her in pain, the image of her fragile body laying still burned into his memory.

Once again, he felt the overwhelming urge to protect her rising within him, mingling with a desperate hope that she would be okay.

He was allowed into her room shortly after, and the moment his eyes landed on her—pale and fragile, lying still against the stark backdrop of the hospital bed—he could hardly breathe. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was a small comfort, yet it did little to ease the tightening in his chest.

Alex watched her intently, waiting patiently for the moment she would awaken from the abyss.

“Come on, Elle,” he pleaded softly, clutching her hand in his. His fingers brushed against her skin, warm yet pallid, and the sheer fragility of it filled him with a painful longing. “You need to wake up. Bella and Brooke aren’t going to be happy to see you like this”

The room felt heavy with unarticulated fears; the silence almost deafening as he attempted to will her to wake with every ounce of hope he could harness. He wasn’t going anywhere, not until she woke up.

An hour stretched into two, and soon, he heard the soft rustle of footsteps outside the door. His parents entered, their expressions somber, concern etched into every line of their faces.

“We’re here,” his mother said, her hand reaching out to gently squeeze his shoulder.

Hours passed, and fatigue began to weigh heavily upon him. Every minute felt like an eternity. He leaned forward, resting his head against Elle’s hand.

Just as he was drifting into a restless sleep, the sound of the door swinging open jolted him upright. A police officer stepped into the room, her posture rigid, the air shifting with the weight of her presence.

“Good morning. We just need to ask a few questions about what happened,” she said, her voice even but carrying an underlying tension.

Alexander shifted, heart pounding again as panic coursed through him.

“I was the one who found her” he said. The police nodded as she took out a paper and a pen to get his statement.

“Please, just start from the beginning, sir. Everything you know, anything that might help us.” Her eyes were steady, piercing, but filled with a concern that cut through the sharpness of the situation.

Alex recounted the night’s events as best as he could, though fragments of memories and emotions mixed together into a collage of confusion. As he spoke, he felt as if the walls were closing in around him, each detail a reminder of how close he had come to losing her, how fragile life could be.

“I know that this is hard to believe but I saw her in my dream. You can think I’m crazy but everything felt so real and so I had to go and find her to confirm if it was real or if it was nothing but a nightmare that felt too real” he explained.

“And it was. It was real. I found her. She was just under the bridge when I saw her. I don’t know why she was there,” he finished, feeling deflated as he thought of all the unanswered questions swirling in his mind. “You have to find whoever did this.”

“And where were you before you found her?” another officer who came a bit after the female officer asked.

“I was at home. Our home security cameras can verify me leaving the house” he said.

The officers exchanged looks, lingering on him for just a moment longer before departing. The weight of their scrutiny filled the room and settled over him; he felt exposed and raw as if his very soul were laid bare before the world.

Hours bled together in the sterile hospital, time distorted in the twilight zone between hope and despair. He remained by Elle’s side, unyielding as the medical staff came and went, running tests and checking her progress.

Each one carried a facade of calm, but he could hear the undercurrents of their conversations, words like “serious injury” and “uncertain prognosis” echoing in his mind like a haunting refrain.

He spent his day lost in thought, wondering how something like this can happen to someone like Elle.

She didn’t seem like someone who would want to be hurt by another person.

Minutes turned into hours and to days, but hope flickered like a candle, fragile yet persistent within him. Each day began and ended in the same way, his whole being waiting for the moment when he would see her eyes open and hear her voice again.

Finally, one late afternoon, as twilight draped the room in a golden glow, he noticed a slight movement in her fingertips, a flicker of something more. His heart leaped in his chest as hope surged through him.

“Elle?” he whispered, leaning closer, feeling the rush of adrenaline surge through him.

“Alexander…” The word was barely a whisper, her voice hoarse and shaky, yet it filled him with a flood of warmth and relief.

“Elle!” he gasped, relief flooding his senses.

“Elle?” he called out.

Alexander rushed to her side.

Elle’s eyes fluttered open, revealing the familiar spark that had been missing. A flicker of recognition passed through her gaze; a warmth that set his heart alight.

“What… what happened?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, but it felt like music to his ears.

“You were shot,” he explained gently, running his thumb over her knuckles. “You’re safe now. We’re at the hospital. You’re going to be okay.”

As she processed his words, a flicker of vulnerability crossed her features, her brow furrowing slightly as she winced. “Oh yeah…

“What happened to you?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. “Never mind”

“Just focus on getting better. That’s all that matters.” He told her.

As they spoke, a pair of nurses entered the room, pausing them from their moment, but Alexander’s attention remained firmly at Elle's side, ensuring her comfort and safety.

The day passed, and eventually, the breath of fresh air mixed with the hospital smell began to feel familiar again.

Alexander watched Elle, her spirit flickering brightly with every word they exchanged.

“This is the first time that we actually had a proper conversation” Elle pointed out.

Alexander scoffed with a slight chuckle as he looked away feeling a bit embarrassed.

A they sat together in the hospital room under the warm afternoon sun, Elle looked at him, determination glimmering in her eyes. “Thank you for being here… for saving me. For not leaving”

“What else can I do?” he replied.

“You’re someone that my sisters absolutely adore. I can’t just let you die, can I?” he added which made Elle chuckle.

Their conversation flowed like water, and for the first time since they met, they dared to laugh, to share softened memories of hope amidst the pain.

And as night fell and the stars began to twinkle outside the hospital window, Alexander knew one thing for certain: he wasn’t going anywhere. He would be there for Elle.