Chapter 36: Between Life and Death
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A Night That Should Have Been Normal
Lily adjusted the grocery bags in her arms, the plastic rustling as she shifted her grip. The streetlights cast a warm, artificial glow on the quiet sidewalk, the world at peace for once.
"I swear, Mark, you always forget something," she teased, nudging her brother with her elbow.
Mark let out a tired sigh, rolling his eyes. "We got everything on the list. You're the one who keeps adding extra snacks."
She grinned. "You're the older brother. You're supposed to spoil me."
The night felt safe. Familiar.
Nothing seemed out of place.
Not until Mark suddenly stopped walking.
Lily frowned, looking up at him. "What?"
Mark didn't answer. His body had gone rigid, his eyes fixed on something up ahead. His expression—frozen in something unreadable.
Lily followed his gaze—
And the world shattered.
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The Sight That Will Never Leave Them
A body on the pavement.
Not just anyone.
Derrick.
Lily's heart stopped. The grocery bags slipped from her fingers, hitting the ground with a dull thud. Apples rolled away, a carton of milk burst open, its contents pooling onto the concrete.
But none of it mattered.
"DERRICK?!"
Her voice came out too high, too panicked.
Mark was already moving.
He sprinted toward Derrick, dropping to his knees beside him.
Blood.
So much blood.
It soaked into Derrick's clothes, staining the pavement beneath him, pooling around his still body.
"Derrick?!" Mark's hands hovered over him, shaking. "Derrick, can you hear me?"
Lily stumbled forward, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Her fingers trembled as she grabbed Derrick's arm.
Cold.
Too cold.
A sickening dread crawled up her spine.
"Mark—" Her voice cracked. "He's—He's not—"
"He's alive," Mark snapped, his voice sharp, desperate.
As if saying it would make it true.
Derrick's chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths.
His lips were slightly parted, but no words came out.
His eyes—half-lidded, unfocused.
Blood covered him. His shirt was slick with it, dark and wet. It dripped from his side, his chest, his stomach.
Lily let out a sob, her hands pressing against one of the wounds. The warmth of his blood seeped between her fingers.
"Mark, we have to do something—"
"I know!" Mark's voice cracked as he yanked out his phone.
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A Desperate Call
Mark's hands were shaking so badly he almost dropped the phone.
He fumbled, fingers clumsy, hitting the wrong buttons. His breath came fast, uneven.
Focus.
He forced himself to press the emergency number.
The dial tone rang.
Once.
Twice.
Then—
"911, what's your emergency?"
"My—my brother—He's been shot—he's—" Mark choked on his own breath. His throat tightened.
Derrick let out a soft, broken noise. Barely a groan.
Mark's chest clenched.
Lily was crying. She was pressing against Derrick's wounds, but the blood wouldn't stop. It wouldn't stop.
"Please hurry!" Mark shouted into the phone.
"Sir, stay calm. Is he breathing?"
"Yes—barely!" Mark's voice wavered. "He's losing too much blood! Please—please, just send someone!"
"They're on their way. Stay with him."
Mark barely heard the rest of what they said.
All he heard—
Was Lily, sobbing.
All he saw—
Was Derrick, bleeding out under the streetlights.
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A Race Against Time
The blaring of sirens split the air, growing louder, sharper.
A rush of movement.
Red and blue lights painted the pavement as paramedics rushed toward them.
"We've got a gunshot victim, male, late teens—multiple wounds," one of them called out.
A stretcher appeared.
Hands grabbed at Derrick, lifting him with controlled urgency.
"BP's dropping fast."
"Pulse is weak—barely there."
Mark and Lily stood frozen, watching as their brother was hauled into the ambulance.
A paramedic turned to them. "You family?"
"Yes!" Mark gasped.
"Get in. We need to move now."
A Race Against Time
The blaring of sirens split the air, growing louder, sharper.
A rush of movement.
Red and blue lights painted the pavement as paramedics rushed toward them.
"We've got a gunshot victim, male, late teens—multiple wounds," one of them called out.
A stretcher appeared.
Hands grabbed at Derrick, lifting him with controlled urgency.
"BP's dropping fast."
"Pulse is weak—barely there."
Mark and Lily stood frozen, watching as their brother was hauled into the ambulance.
A paramedic turned to them. "You family?"
"Yes!" Mark gasped.
"Get in. We need to move now."
---
The Operating Room
Bright lights. Cold air.
Derrick drifted in and out of awareness, his body unresponsive.
"He's losing too much blood."
"Prepare for emergency surgery—now!"
The voices were urgent, sharp.
He felt nothing.
Not the IV piercing his skin. Not the hands pressing against his wounds.
Only the darkness, creeping closer.
A ventilator was placed over his mouth. Someone counted down.
"Scalpel."
"Retractor."
His body was being opened, but his mind was elsewhere.
A void.
An abyss.
He heard the voices.
But they were distant.
"…bullet fragments near the lung—too deep—careful!"
"Heart rate unstable!"
Beeping. Too fast. Then too slow.
A strange, floating sensation.
Then—
Flatline.
The world went silent.
"He's coding!"
Derrick's consciousness slipped.
The darkness swallowed him whole.
A moment stretched—felt like eternity.
Then—
A shock to his chest.
Once.
Twice.
His body arched.
A blinding flash—
Then, the beep of a steady rhythm.
Faint. Weak. But there.
"Heartbeat's back!"
A breath.
A chance.
The fight wasn't over.
---
The Waiting Room Nightmare
The hospital smelled like antiseptic and death.
Mark and Lily sat side by side, but neither spoke.
Lily's hands trembled in her lap, covered in Derrick's blood. She hadn't washed them. She couldn't.
If she did, it would feel like erasing him.
Mark kept staring at the double doors leading to the operating room. His leg bounced restlessly. His fingers dug into his knees.
The silence stretched.
Then—
The doors swung open.
A doctor stepped out, peeling off blood-stained gloves. His face was unreadable.
Mark shot to his feet. "Is he—?!"
The doctor raised a hand. "He's alive. But he's not out of danger."
Lily let out a choked sob, covering her mouth.
"He lost a lot of blood," the doctor continued. "We removed three bullets, but two were dangerously close to vital organs. He coded on the table—"
Lily gasped.
Mark's knees almost gave out.
"But we got him back," the doctor said quickly. "His condition is critical, but stable—for now."
"For now?" Mark's voice wavered. "What does that mean?"
The doctor hesitated.
"If he survives the next 24 hours… he has a chance."
---
The Breaking Point
The doctor left.
Mark and Lily were alone again.
Lily's breath hitched. "Mark…"
"I know," he whispered.
They couldn't cry.
They couldn't break.
Not yet.
But when the nurses finally let them into Derrick's room, and they saw him—
The tubes. The wires. The pale skin.
Something inside them shattered.
Lily reached out, grabbing Derrick's limp hand.
"Please," she whispered. "Please wake up."
Mark clenched his fists so tightly his nails dug into his palms.
He had always been the older brother.
The strong one.
The one who was supposed to protect them.
And now, Derrick lay there—helpless, broken.
Because he hadn't been there to stop it.
Mark turned away, swallowing back the lump in his throat.
When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"If he dies…" His hands shook. "I swear to God, I'll kill them."
Lily didn't say anything.
She didn't need to.
Because she felt the same.
---
The Darkness Creeps In
The exhaustion was too much.
It dragged at me, pulling me back into the void.
I tried to fight it—but my body was done.
The operation room blurred.
The edges of my vision darkened.
I tried to hold onto something, anything.
But the only thought that surfaced—
A ridiculous, stupid, meaningless thought:
"Is this how I die? Damn, I couldn't even find a girlfriend."
---
But Then, Something Darker
No.
No.
I won't die like this.
Not like some pathetic loser, abandoned and broken.
Not while those bastards walk free.
Jason.
His scum friends.
They tried to break me.
They tried to ruin me.
And Serena…
She watched.
She knew what they were.
She knew who I was.
And she still betrayed me.
My fingers curled weakly against the sheets.
My body was broken.
But my hatred was alive.
A bitter fire burned in my chest, even as the darkness tried to drag me down.
I swear…
I will make them regret this.
No matter what it takes.