Loss haha

My heart beats out of my chest.

“Sass!” Someone cries out.

“Oh my god!”

I lie on the cobblestone floor, bullets and knives penetrating the front of my body. I’m practically decorated with the shiny weapons.

I feel Burf's hands go to my neck, checking for a pulse. I have one, though very faint. “Shit.” He swears sharply.

Niall and Webb pick me up. I scream painfully as the bullets and knives shift around in my organs.

“It’ll be okay, okay, okay.” Webb says over and over, though his tone says he's unsure himself.

With my blurry eyesight, I see the other mafia members trail behind in worry. Raf looks devastated, looking down at the knife in her hand in horror. Soda and Spoon look angry at themselves. Their guns are resting inside the range.

How much blood have I lost? A few pints? A quart?

In a few hours, I wake up on a hospital bed. I can feel bandages wrapped around me, the smell off blood gone. Niall and Webb stand a monitor, talking low. Burf has a cart beside the sink, him cleaning off tools.

Dem walks in brutishly and bluntly. “How is she?”

I look towards him.

“She’s doing fine.” Niall says, writing stuff down from the monitor.

“How much did she lose?”

Burf walks over. “We thought too much but…three liters and she was okay.”

Dem's eyes widen. “Three liters?! How is she not dead!”

“We have no idea, but she’s safe and alive.”

I nod gently. My head is sore.

Dem stairs at me with a taut but curious expression. I can see the interest sparkle in his eyes before leaving the room.

Three liters of blood. There’s only five in the human body. If I survived, it’s because of…

My fingers brush the locket.

My parents.

