The gun popped along to the staccato of her heartbeat, thumping against her ears like the time when David Stefani told her she was beautiful.
“Oh, god.” Her cry flew across the pavement with a flutter of startled birds. For an endless moment, all was silent, the air broken only by a shuddering exhale from the crumpled figure on the ground.
A hooded form trembled as crimson seeped into his shoes, staring at the boy beneath his feet who had three bullet holes kissing his chest. “I’m sorry,” he choked as he brought a shaking hand to his mouth. A final pop burst through the silence. His hood exploded from his head, revealing eyes that widened before rolling back. He fell like a judge’s mallet, hard and sharp.
The girl stood facing the scene, her knees threatening to lose the battle with gravity. On the ground not twenty paces away lay her past and her future, folded perfectly into each other, one lifeless body cupping the other in curled absolution.
Gravity won out. She stumbled to the ground, retching into the dizzy space between her hands. 911, she thought, I need to call 911. She fumbled into her jeans for her phone, punching in the three infamous numbers from where she crouched.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“There’s a shooting. My friend—my friends have been shot.” Her voice caught. “Oh, god, there’s so much blood. Please, send an ambulance! I think…I think they’re dead.” She began to sob, making the speaker blow with her gasps.
“Ma’am, please calm down. Where are you?”
“I’m at the park near Williams street,” she exhaled. “I didn’t come in time…I couldn’t stop him…” Anger invaded her throat. “They were friends! It was the gang that killed them, not the gun.”
