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“Tanisha?” I knelt down and placed a couple of fingers on her neck. Even through the latex glove, I could detect a faint pulse.
She was bleeding from two wounds in her abdomen. I grabbed a towel from the kitchen area and applied pressure. A sharp cry of pain escaped her throat.
“I’ll call 911,” Conor said, stepping outside to get a better cell signal.
“Hang in there, Tanisha. Help’s on the way.”
The moments ticked by slowly. I monitored her breathing, checking her pulse periodically. She’d lost a lot of blood. I wasn’t sure how she was still alive at this point. Memories of trying to save my father hammered at my psyche. I tried to wall them off and focus on the situation at hand, but still, the emotions of panic and despair seeped through.
“Medical’s on its way,” Conor said when
