She's bleeding everywhere. I don't know what to do. I can hear my breaths magnified a thousand times in my head, along with my heartbeat, the smaller heartbeat in my side where I was shot, Ally's heartbeat, and somehow, gunshots, though I'm almost certain that they aren't real, that Harry is safe, and that… Whatever. I shouldn't worry about him… yet. He knows Ben, he knows what's going on, and I trust him to get himself out of that mess.
Everything will be okay.
"God," I mutter. "So much blood…" There's too much red everywhere, it's making my vision funny. Her shirt front is soaked, her cardigan has patches of the same blood, and the puddle on the floor expands. I wonder why Ally's not passed out from blood-loss… or dead. But I don't think I could bear to see her die, even though…
Not long ago, Ally was interrogating me with her beautiful bold eyes. I stare into those same eyes now, but they've changed.
"God, wh-what do I do...?"
My voice sounds so far away. If I faint before Ally does, I swear –
"Take… off…" Ally's voice pulls me back into this elevator. "My… cardigan," she chokes out. "Compress the wound."
I hope that the look I'm giving her isn't the weariest expression ever, but I can't handle it. I can't even look at the blood. It's enough that I'm watching her bleed out.
No.
I shouldn't watch her bleed out.
I should save her.
I reach my arms underneath her armpits, then lift her and shuffle over to the elevator wall. She groans and pushes me away to clutch at her side. Suddenly I wish Lilli was beside me; she'd know what to do; she'd know how to save her.
"You're okay," I squeak, not feeling very okay myself. "Let me just…"
I gently ease her arms out of the cardigan, and I flinch every time she groans or cries or moves. Once I have the cardigan in my hand, I glance from it to her. She's breathing heavily, barely looking at me, but then again, she's barely looking at anything.
"Ally." My voice comes out louder than I wished. "I'm going to have to –"
"I know!" she explodes. She looks furious for a second, but then she's balling. I feel myself burning up too, so I quickly kneel at her side and press my hand and her cardigan into the wound. Then she starts to scream.
Harry
I've been through enough combat training to know that each second means life or death. There are no second chances. The only choice you get to make is when you want life and when you want death.
The two seconds Tasmin lends me as Ben lets loose three bullets in her direction is enough for me to pick up my gun and scramble off. I don't check behind me to see if he's coming after me, I just run, and I curse these long corridors. I realise that it doesn't matter if he can't see where I am, because he can definitely hear me shuffling down the now-deserted corridors.
I hear him running too, and I'm afraid that at any second, I'll have metal in my back, and I won't ever get up again.
I expect the bullets to come raining down, but all I can hear are our shoes against the glowing tiles, the shifting of my clothes, the pounding of my heart… a scream. I don't know who's. I stop running. I realise that I can only hear me now, not Ben. And I beg, I beg, I beg that he hasn't found Tasmin.
I turn where I am, facing the empty corridor, then race back. I can't run away any longer. I'm done with running from my problems; all I've ever done was run, hide, find an alternative to a problem instead of facing it.
I should be with Tasmin right now. She shouldn't be running away from my problems. She shouldn't…
… She doesn't deserve me.
Tasmin
"AM I DOING IT RIGHT?!" I hate how panicked I sound when I should be the one calming Ally down.
She keeps crying but nods her head aggressively. I really don't know if I should press harder or softer. I ease my hand off a bit, but keep the pressure around the sides. Ally claws at my dress with her bloody fingers. I let her.
We hold still for less than a minute before Ally whispers: "Thanks."
When I look up, her eyes are closed, but her fingers remain firm, clasped around bunches of my dress.
Harry
Ben finds me first.
I'm at the karaoke bar on Deck seven, checking how many bullets I have (only one, because I wasn't planning on using any more bullets than necessary… one is already too many) when I hear a twang of slightly out-of-tune piano keys. He's on the other side of the room, but not shooting; you can't hold more than fifteen bullets in a Beretta. He's already shot seven bullets now, and he knows that it's over if he runs out of them.
I need to get that gun away from him.
Unless I come up from behind him, I can't just take his gun away. I can't run at him, he'll just shoot me. I just hope that security will realise what's happening soon, and get down here to take him down. The reality I try not to think of hits me: When they take him down, they'll take me down too.
I dive behind the bar, raising my gun, gripping it tight. I hear nothing for a second. I glance down and notice the beer bottles below the counter. Taking one in hand, I start to crawl around the bar counter.
He's coming towards me, looking weary; he doesn't know how many bullets I have. Then, there's a sound… an elevator sound, and Ben flicks his head. I hurl the beer bottle at him and run again.
I need to find a way to corner him after he loses me again. But he's already lost me; he's going for the elevator, because we both have a sure idea who's going to be in there.