Page 95 of The Rebel of Raleigh High

Itishim.

“No!No, no, no, no, no!”

His t-shirt’s been cut away, exposing his chest. And there, just below his left pec, a tiny, perfectly round hole is leaking blood all over his tattooed skin. His face is so pale, his dark eyelashes resting against his cheekbones. He doesn’t cry out in pain as one of the other EMTs sticks him with a needle. He doesn’t respond at all.

“Still in v-fib. Prep the paddles. Forget the trach kit. If we can’t get a rhythm, it won’t matter if he can’t breathe anyway.”

The dull roaring in my ears mutes the words they’re firing back and forth to one another. The world is crashing down around me. “Save him! Oh my god, you have to save him. Please!”

“For Christ sake, someone get her out of here,” someone snaps.

Hands close around the tops of my arms. I yank myself free again, spinning on the police officer I saw back in the hall. “Don’t fucking touch me! I’m staying!”

The EMT who stuck Alex moves quickly, placing two gel pads on his chest. “Charging to two hundred. Clear.” She discharges the defibrillator next to her, and Alex’s back arches off the ground. The next second, he’s still again. Lifeless.

“No good,” she says, her fingers pressed against the side of his throat. “Again. Charging to three hundred. Clear.”

I cover my mouth with my hands, biting down on my lip so hard that the metallic, sharp taste of blood coats my tongue. Alex’s body jolts again, then slumps back down to the ground.

“Anything?” the first EMT asks.

The woman operating the defibrillator rechecks Alex's throat for a pulse…then shakes her head.

“Nope. Nothing. Flatline. I’m afraid he’s dead.”

…

Dorme, Passerotto. That’s right, mi amore. Shhh. Rest. It time to go to sleep…