The Rest Of Our Lives

I vaguely recalled what had happened in the last few hours. I remember Jun calling my name as he all but tore me away from Alex, taking over the reanimation until the paramedics appeared. Then the words “temporary stable” rang in my head as they transported Alex to the hospital in Nassau. I refused to leave his side. I held his hand almost until he had been taken to the operating room.

Philip and Jun dragged me away so that doctors could patch me, even though I said I didn't need it. They insisted, and Jun might have even said something about knocking me out if I'd refused. The doctors asked me if I needed painkillers. When I said I wasn't sure, they asked me if I needed something to soothe my nerves. I took neither. I didn't want anything that could dull my senses as I waited for Alex's operation to be over.

The surgeon said that the bullet vaguely missed the heart but also that removing it would be complicated. Still, there was a chance. There was hope that he would survive. He had