Taken By Surprise

by Jessica Frances

  Chapter Seven – The Confession

  My senses slowly come back to me. First, the pain in my heart is sharper and then the voices become louder. Screaming. I hear Dana’s name called out over and over. The scream sounds so hollow and tortured it darkens my soul to hear it. I’m slow to realize it’s me who’s screaming.

  I stretch my hands forward to touch her face. She doesn’t move from my touch. My hands are covered in her blood and I stain her pale face with it. She still feels warm. That’s a good thing, right?

  I look up at Drew and I only see devastation on his face. He is heartbroken and it forces the pain in my heart to feel even worse. How can this be happening?

  “Out the way.” Paramedics have arrived and they push Drew to the side. While one tends to Dana, one looks over me. My eyes don’t move from Dana’s prone body and I’m too numb to care when the paramedic in front of me looks me over. I’m sure from all the blood on me I look like I’ve been hit, too. I see police milling around us and I assume they have Joel already.

  Joel! Joel shot Dana! Why?

  The paramedic is asking me something, but I don’t hear it. His words don’t make sense to me. The man working on Dana calls out and the man in front of me leaves; in a blink of an eye, he is back with a gurney. Another blink later and Mom has her arms wrapped around me with a warm blanket covering my shoulders. Everything is moving too fast. Another blink and Dana has been moved onto the gurney.

  Blood spills over the stark white sheets now under her and a puddle is left on the ground where she was. There is so much blood. How can someone as small as Dana have had so much blood inside her? How can she survive having lost so much?

  I try to keep my eyes open. I lose too much time when I close them. My vision blurs and my eyes sting. I try not to blink. I don’t want to lose sight of Dana, but without my permission, my eyes close. When I open them, I see the man who has stayed with Dana the entire time is up on the gurney with her. He is leaning over her while performing CPR. She’s not breathing. The other one is wheeling them out and they brush past me as I try to follow.

  “Let them go. She’s going to be okay, Zoe. Everything is going to be okay,” Mom whispers in my ear, but I hear the fear in her voice.

  I let my eyes close and I don’t want to open them. I’m not sure I ever want to open them again.

  When I finally do, things are moving faster. A police officer is trying to talk to me, but I don’t remember how to speak. Another blink and I see Mom arguing with someone, behind her cameras are flashing over the scene left behind in the backyard. At one point, they take my photo, but I just close my eyes. I count dozens of people I’ve never seen before around our house, all wearing uniforms; many are talking to the guests of my party.

  I’m overwhelmed by everything and I purposely blink, hoping to find myself somewhere else. It works, sort of. I find myself in my bathroom. Mom is slowly undressing me and placing my bloodied clothing into a clear bag. There is someone else with us, a woman who is speaking softly to me. I don’t understand what she is saying. Mom is talking, too, but even her words sound jumbled to me. Nothing matters, not now.

  I blink and then I’m alone in the shower. I don’t know how long I’ve been standing in here. The water is hot and it scalds my body. My skin is pink from the heat when I turn the water off and step out of the shower. I grab my towel and slowly dry myself. I hear voices outside. One is Mom. I understand their words this time. I wrap the towel around my body and slide down onto the ground, leaning my head against the shower screen.

  “We recommend you find somewhere to stay for the next few days, perhaps another family member’s or a friend’s house.”

  “We’re not leaving here, this is the house I shared with my husband and I am not leaving him.” Mom sounds hysterical.

  “Ma’am, this house is now a crime scene—”

  “My house is no such thing. Nothing happened here, only outside. We won’t go out there,” she snaps.

  “You really should try and find alternate sleeping arrangements. Your daughter and yourself have just gone through a big shock and staying here—”

  “We are not leaving. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to tend to my daughter. I will bring her to the station tomorrow morning so she can give you her statement. Right now, she needs to rest.”

  There’s a moment of silence before the man gives in. “Of course, ma’am.”

  I hear footsteps receding and, once they’re gone, Mom opens the bathroom door.

  “You’ll catch your death sitting on that cold floor like that. Let’s get you dressed,” she coaxes me to stand.

  “Dana?” My voice sounds funny to my ears, hoarse and quiet.

  “Don’t think about that just now, sweetie. Come on, you need some rest.”

  “Dana.” I try to sound more forceful and I manage. I grip onto her arm, which is still trying to keep me standing.

  “I’m sorry, she lost too much blood.” Mom leans forward, her hip leaning heavily against the basin and I slide out of her hands and down on the floor. She quickly moves herself onto the ground next to me and pulls me into her arms. First, I hear her sobs and then I can’t hear anything over my own.