Valentina

For several minutes, I stand like an outsider in the midst of the ensuing chaos, my mind blank while my head tries so hard to process what just happened. I remember hearing the gunshot but I didn’t got hit. Marco stands still for a moment, his face as white as chalk, then he falls to the ground clutching his arm. Understanding reverberates through me, Marco is hit.

"Marco!" I scream, rushing to his side just as blood slowly stains his shirt, a crimson river flowing from the wound in his arm. Panic grips me as I frantically search for a way to staunch the bleeding, to save the man who took the bullet meant from me. But even as I fight to stop the bleeding, I could see the color fading from his eyes, he’s losing so much blood. I blink back the tears threatening to fall in torrents.

“I’ll be fine Valentina, it’s just a flesh wound.”

“It’s a gunshot wound, you need medical care right now.”

A group of men dressed in black crash into the room joining our rescuer, relief evident in their fa