/Madison's POV/
The world blurred around me as I trailed Allison's stretcher.
I watched as they fastened the oxygen mask over her face while they moved her into the ambulance and I got in with her.
The scent of disinfectant mixed with the faint sweetness of medical supplies in the air was quickly tainted by the scent of blood the moment my sister was moved in.
Underneath the heavy metallic scent is a hint of worn vinyl and stale air, remnants of countless trips and frantic moments.
The smell of leather gloves and sweat from the emergency doctors soon joined the mix of urgency and emergency.
I sat in the corner, numb but not numb enough. My eyes stayed on hers. Half-lidded, unfocused, but still fighting. I could feel it — the desperate plea in her gaze, the silent scream: I want to live while she struggled to keep her lids open.
I looked down at my bloodstained hands, my chest tightening as my tangled emotions untwisted into two strands: rage and fear..
Our parents died when we were seven, old enough to know we had become orphans but young enough not to comprehend what the world had in store for us.
I could still remember the pain I felt as my aunts decided who'd be staying behind and who'd be leaving with her not long after our parent's funeral; after all, she couldn't possibly handle taking care of three kids on her own.
I was separated from my sisters almost immediately after Earth covered my parents' faces.
The pain of watching the two leave for the city while I stayed in the countryside with my grandmother was something I eventually understood as I grew much older and after years of living with that feeling, I thought I'd gotten used to it; I thought I'd finally learned to navigate it but now it felt so brand new, like getting a fresh wound after one had just healed.
As the door of the ambulance opened, a burst of outside wind brought a fleeting glimpse of fresh air, which I didn't stop to appreciate as I quickly followed my sister to the hospital.
I heard the doctors exchange a few words before she was rushed into the operating room.
And I stood there in the middle of the hospital room watching the red light from the door sign read, 'OR in use'.
"Where is she?" A trembling masculine voice asked me and I turned towards it in reflex, completely unsure how he got so close without my knowledge. It was that guy, Allison's fiance.
My fingers tugged my cap lower. I'd tied my jacket around Allison's wounds earlier, then pulled the cap down when the paramedics couldn't stop staring at my face instead of helping her.
"You're Zane?" It wasn't a question or a declaration because I wasn't sure of his identity nor was I curious, though I'd rather know something else. "That guy, did you get him?" I demanded after adjusting my cap to get a good look at his flustered face.
Like I thought, it was him.
Those deep green eyes that met mine for a brief second as he raced after that guy, his square face had grown disgruntled and his straight, perfectly combed back chocolate brown hair was now scattered over his head like he'd run his hands through it quite a few times.
His clothes that had been earlier neatly worn to express his elegance were crumpled and his tie was missing.
His tall athletic build towered my 5'7 frame as he moved a little closer, his thin lips pursed in a way that almost looked painful.
"I'm sorry, I lost him." I didn't get a chance to ask how since he quickly filled me in on what happened.
"He was shot the moment I had him," he added and the rage in my heart seared close to boiling point.
It was clear to me that someone out there had targeted her then.
Before I could react, officers swept in. They went straight to Zane, bombarding him with questions, ignoring me completely..
It was obvious they knew them together.
I quietly slipped away the moment I had the chance; they're not going to get anything from me anyway, and while I'd seen it happen, I wasn't in contact with the attacker.
I found a restroom nearby and brought my white tank top over my head as it was now soaked in my sister's blood.
Staring at my tired reflection in the bathroom mirror as I stood in my brown bra and jeans, I I scrubbed the fabric under the tap until my hands stung, but the stains clung stubbornly.
I feel miserable.
Why do I have to lose someone the moment I get my hopes up that I am no longer alone!? I groaned loudly and landed my fist into the wall in rage, breaking the surrounding tiles into a web of broken but still glued pieces.
I exhaled, unsatisfied by my tantrum. I was right there with her; I could have stopped it…I could have saved her and I couldn't blame that 'Zane' guy either; after all, it wasn't his fault that I couldn't protect my sister.
I returned to the tap and wrung the water out of my tank top.
Slipping the wet but now slightly clean fabric back on, I walked out of the bathroom and climbed up to the top roof, my lungs straining for air that didn't reek of bleach and despair.
I reached for my pocket and brought out a cigarette I had tucked away into my pockets out of habit. While I'd quit smoking, I still like to fondle the stick sometimes; it allows me to clear my head.
Would things have turned out differently if I hadn't abandoned Allison for thirteen years? Maybe this attack wouldn't have happened.
I probably would have saved her, but all these were the thoughts eating away at me as some part of my consciousness blamed me for what happened to Allison and I couldn't help but agree.
"You smoke?"
I jerked at the voice. Zane stood at the stairwell, eyes rimmed red. How did he even find me here? I wondered and as if reading my mind, he answered.
"I saw you when you took the corner stairs," He answered in a raspy voice, almost teary.
"Oh," I muttered, feeling awkward by his presence. "I quit," I answered his earlier questions before snapping the cig in two and finally facing him properly by removing my cap.
"She was right," he said softly, almost to himself. "You two really do look alike."
He stepped closer, shoulders slumped. "Madison, right?"
"Yes." My brow furrowed. "What do you want?"
"The people who did this… they're still out there." His voice broke, raw grief etched across his face.
I stiffened. His pain felt heavier than I expected. Restless unease coiled in my stomach as he closed the distance between us, close enough that I could breathe in his woody cologne.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "This is my fault." His reddened eyes instantly glossed up with tears.
"What are you sorry for, You ain't the one who stabbed her." I shrugged, trying to make sense of his behaviour.
"No, I could have protected her better and now she's gone"
My chest hollowed. "What?". With a furrow I demanded. "What are you talking about? What'd you mean?" My voice trembled as I asked; probably a part of me knew what he wanted to say.
"She's gone, Madison. She's dead. She didn't make it."
My shoulders sagged to Zane's words while I'd mentally prepared myself for anything; I still wasn't quite prepared for this. It was suddenly hard to breathe.
"I didn't come to find her again just to lose her," I lamented aloud as my heart shattered into a million unrecognisable pieces.
""I know." His voice rasped. "But listen… help me." I stared at him, stunned. Help him? Now? My eyes shifted uncomfortably at him; I just fucking lost my sister. "Help me find them, those people who took her from us.".
He seemed overwhelmed by his own grief to even think straight; his unfocused eyes were proof of that.
I scoffed, anger flaring through my grief. "And how the hell am I supposed to do that?"
He swallowed, eyes dark and desperate. "If they think she's still alive, they'll come back. So…"
"If they think she isn't dead yet, they'll come back for her... so help me-"
I shook my head, stepping back. "What the fuck are you saying?" I demanded raising my palm over my head as if to calm the slow agonizing throb I was feeling.
"You just have to pretend to be Allison."
His words hit me like a punch, leaving me frozen in utter shock.
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