"No, no, no, you can't-" his voice cracks and he begins to sob over top of the bleeding body of his best friend.
"You have to stay with me, you can't... leave me," but he knew that she was practically dead already; being a med student gives you that kind of insight.
The air turned icy around them. It was 11:13 at night and all he had wanted was to go for a walk.
That's it. Strolling through the darkened park always settled his nerves, and she always accompanied him.
The park lamps projected little circles of light onto the ground and the fresh smell of cut grass plagued the air. It was a cloudy night and the moon did not shine, making the scene all the more depressing.
The small playground stood stock still amidst the grass, as did the gray, bland skyscrapers circling the small park.
He looks again at the dying girl in his arms, though his vision is blurred by the salty tears stinging his eyes.
He looked to her stomach, where the thick, red liquid had poured out of a bullet hole and soaked her black sweater. The blood shimmered against the matte hoodie. It glistened on his fingers and dripped into his lap, where he held her.
Her body radiated heat. His throat tightened and burned; he almost puked his leftover dinner imagining her body, cold and lifeless.
In her throat, blood gurgled and bubbled. Her eyes suddenly blinked open.
She looked towards him, but she wasn't seeing him; it was as if he was transparent and she was staring up at the clouds. She coughed violently for a moment, then her chest stopped heaving staggered breaths and her eyes glazed over.
They seemed to fade; their once sharp and unwavering gaze floated away with her dying breath. He cried into the night, wishing this to be a dream.
But it wasn't, and he knew that. He had always tried to prepare himself for this day. He didn't know where the bullet had come from or who shot it, only that someone wanted her dead.
He had expected it, obviously, but it depressed him none the less. He knew that one day, after all the years of knowing her, that something like this would happen.
It was he, of course, who was the one that chose to "befriend a serial murderer".
