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“Fuck, we’ve gotta get hi for the hospital That bullet could’ve hit a major artery,” a voice hisses in the darkness I think it’s Drake’s “Use the chopper Yeah, right there!”

The loud whirring oof frohway, landing in the middle of the asphalt where trucks have blocked off both sides of the road, their lights pointing down the road like a e

Several guys hoist West up and rush him inside the helicopter

Not about to let hih the small crowd and climb in beside him before anybody stops me

“Please I can’t leave him,” I plead as a pilot looks back

He gives me a nod and a man in a police uniform shoves a set of earmuffs into my hands

Even with them, the noise is ridiculous

Crouching down, I help apply pressure to Weston’s thigh Someone tied a leather belt around it—a makeshift tourniquet—and it’s already drenched in blood

Time blurs as soon as we’re airborne

I cry

I pray

I worry

I keepevery second with his heartbeat, begging it to hold steady with my cheek as the helicopter heads for what must be Dickinson

Sweet Jesus, it hurts

Even having o wasn’t this brutal