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My beautiful Amara was slumped over her desk, a pool of blood rapidly growing beneath her head.

“Amara!”

I ran to her side, trying to assess what had happened. She was barely breathing, gurgling, and going pale. Pressing the emergency call button on my phone, I tossed it onto the corner of her desk as it rang, scooping her blood-soaked hair out of her face.

“Get the fuck up here! I need a doctor in Amara’s office NOW!” I screamed into the speakerphone, kneeling next to Amara to find the source of her bleeding.

Her mouth was moving, but she couldn’t speak, and she couldn’t breathe. Finally, I could see the cause; her throat had been cut.

Not just cut… It looked as if she was stabbed, and it was ripped out of her neck.

“Amara, oh my god…” I sobbed, immediately putting pressure on her neck.

Weakly, she opened her eyes to look at me, trying to speak.

“Shh, baby. Don’t try; it’s okay, I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Her blood continued to fall from her wound, completely soaking my hands.

“Amara, baby… I need to intubate you. I need you to breathe…” I was panicking, wondering what the fuck was taking someone so long to get here. “Where the fuck are they?!” I cried out, desperately scanning the room for anything I could use to help her breathe.

My eyes found her desk phone and noticed the cord was cut.

What…?

With a weak, shaky hand, Amara reached for my arm, trying to stroke my skin with a blood-covered finger. Her lips were turning blue, and I knew I was losing her.

“Alexis?!” I could hear Dr. Sanchez, one of the trauma surgeons, called out as his footsteps rushed towards us.

“In here! Hurry the fuck up! She’s aspirating!”

Locking eyes with my fiancée, I saw her perfect emeralds dimming under the harsh office lights. She reached her trembling hand towards her computer monitor, pointing to a stick in her USB drive: her hidden camera in her office. Tearing the drive out of the monitor, I shoved it in the pocket of my scrubs, and returned to keeping pressure with both hands, meeting her dimming gaze again.

Dr. Sanchez rushed in to assist, and everything became a blur as Amara mouthed “I love you” before closing her eyes for the last time, a single tear falling down her bloody cheek, leaving behind a clean trail through the crimson on her skin.

“Amara?! Amara! Wake up, baby! Please, wake up!” I sobbed as Dr. Sanchez checked for a pulse on her wrist.

“Alexis…”

“No, no, no, no, no…”

“Alexis, she?—”

“No! Fucking help me! She’s just unconscious! She needs… she needs… intubation and… and…”

The world around me seemed to move in slow motion as at least ten other people rushed into the room. All I could do wascling to Amara’s hand, interlacing our fingers. Her engagement ring grazed my skin as our fingers linked, and before they took me away from her, I slipped it off her finger and onto my right ring finger.

“Alexis…” Dr. Sanchez’s powerful arms surrounded me, pulling me from Amara, her bloody hand sliding out of my grip. “The police are here, Alexis; they need to do their thing. I promise you, we’ll take care of Amara.”

I could barely comprehend what he was saying as he guided me away from her. Stealing one more glance at my soulmate before turning out of the doorway with Dr. Sanchez, I knew that in that moment, that my soul died with hers.

“Let’s get you some privacy and some fresh clothes; come.” Dr. Sanchez gently guided me down the hall and into the elevator to travel one floor down to the oncology floor.

The elevator opened to an empty nurse’s station as we walked into the first room to the left of the elevator.

“Take a breather here; I’ll go find you a fresh pair of scrubs,” Dr. Sanchez said gently, giving my shoulder a comforting squeeze. All I could do was sit on the edge of the bed, letting my feet hang.

Amara…