Goodbye, Mr. Regret

Herbert caught Jessica in his arms just in time.

Her skin was icy cold, her face ghostly pale, and sweat beaded on her forehead.

She'd started vomiting a reaction to the sight of all that blood.

Moving quickly, Herbert laid her gently on the ground, then lifted her legs at a forty-five-degree angle, supporting her ankles in his hands.

A few minutes later, Jessica's eyes fluttered open, but she was so weak she could barely move.

Herbert lowered her legs and helped her sit up against the wall. Jessica tried to glance toward Timothy, but Herbert swiftly covered her eyes with his hand. "Don't look," he said softly. "You faint at the sight of blood. If you go into shock, it could be dangerous."

Just then, the distant wail of the ambulance siren reached Jessica's ears, and the tension in her chest eased a little.

"Okay," she whispered, "I won't look."

In what felt like no time at all, the ambulance arrived. Paramedics rushed Timothy onto a stretcher, and Herbert scooped Jessica up and climbed in after them.

He asked the medics for an ice pack and pressed it to Jessica's forehead, shielding her from the sight of Timothy's wound, blocking her view with his own body.

On the other side of the ambulance, paramedics scrambled to save Timothy.

"Heart rate dropping!"

"Quick, stop the bleeding!"

A medic turned to them. "Family member-what's his blood type?"

Jessica managed a weak reply: "O."

"Start a transfusion, now!"

heart rate's

erratically as she listened to the frantic

felt foggy

move-I want

firm, but there was worry in his eyes. “Don't blame me for being harsh. You really can't look,

didn't want to watch

her- Vince had told her. Her heart ached at the memory, but she hadn't looked

accident was also because of her; his back had been covered in wounds that

injuries? She was sure he had them. Why

had struck Timothy's head, splitting the

tremendous force could have done that kind

tightened with each

wanted was a divorce. To leave him. To spend whatever time she had left

hope for her life again, she only

else—not to dredge up old wounds, not to

wanted peace. A simple

had things ended up

of them was

was battered and

wasn't the

with trembling hands. "Save him. Please; save him. I

accept it, please, tell

it takes.