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92

I heard the sirens, the well-known friction of wheels moving over the floor, lights flashing red and blue. However, I wanted to be able to say that I didn't need care. That I didn't feel the pain anymore. But she returned, this time, straight into my heart, when the stretcher passed me and supported a large body carried by two police officers who wore black helmets. Zachary was raised, unconscious and bathed in blood, practically faint.

I couldn't see where all that blood came from, especially because my attention was called to the police officers who were returning from the open door, pulling the injured mobsters in tight handcuffs. Among those who wore dark vests and helmets with the acronyms of the FBI, I recognized the robust figure of Dennis, Zachary's co-worker.

The policeman pulled with unnecessary brutality a person smaller than him, covered by black robes and with an arrogant air in his footsteps. When the person raised his head and found me being immobilized by the team of f
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