Shattered

CHAPTER 133
VIOLET

No.
No.
Just no.

This can’t be real. It must be a nightmare. Any moment now, I’ll wake up, and it will be three days ago. I’ll be back in the flower garden, wrapped in Ryan’s arms, taking ice cream and laughing at his protests.

But this time, I won’t let him go for the package. This time, I’ll cling to him, hold him so tightly he can’t leave. I’ll whisper that I don’t need anything but him. I’ll beg him to stay. We’ll walk back to the house together, and everything will be fine.

It’ll all go back to normal. This nightmare will fade, and I’ll wake up where I belong—safe and whole, with Ryan by my side.

But no matter how hard I try, I can’t wake up.

The world around me is a chaotic mess of sirens, shouting voices, and flashing lights. But it all feels distant, like I’m underwater, struggling to breathe. The only thing I can see is him—lying still on the ground—and the red.

So much red.

Blood coats everything: his shirt, the ground beneath him, my trembling hands.

I don’t know how I end up on my knees. My legs feel like they’ve given out under the weight of it all. I don’t walk to where he’s lying—I crawl. The rough asphalt scrapes against my skin, but I don’t feel it. My body moves with the desperation of an injured animal, uncoordinated and frantic.

I don’t see the cops swarming around, don’t hear their commands or the frantic urgency in their voices. I don’t hear the ambulance doors slamming open, the sound of the paramedics rushing in. All I hear is the low buzz in my ears and the relentless, deafening silence that fills my mind.

The only thing I see is him. And the red.

It’s my fault.

The thought hits me like a cold, crushing wave. My breath catches in my throat, and I can’t seem to shake it off.

He’s dying because of me.

The world around me tilts, or maybe it’s just me—spinning out of control, everything blurring, slipping away. I can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t even pray. I’m trapped, suffocating in the horror of it all.

Dark, sticky blood pools beneath him, spreading like a cruel stain. It’s everywhere—on the paramedic’s gloves as they press on his chest, on my hands as I reach for him. It’s supposed to be inside him, giving him life, not spilling out onto the pavement.

“No,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “No, no, no.”

I reach out, my hands trembling, and press them against his chest, trying to stop the bleeding. The sticky warmth seeps into my skin, but it doesn’t stop. It keeps flowing, unstoppable, relentless.

Through the haze, I glance at his face, pale and motionless. His eyes are closed. His lips, usually curved in a smirk or drawn into a teasing grin, are colorless and slack. His eyes are closed, his lashes fluttering gently against his pale cheeks, but his face is empty—lifeless.

He’s not moving.

This isn’t Ryan. Not the Ryan I know.

The Ryan I know is full of life. He’s cocky and infuriating and completely impossible. He’s the one who steals my blankets in the middle of the night, watches sappy rom-coms with me even though he pretends to hate them, and teases me about every little thing.

This… this lifeless body on the ground isn’t him. It can’t be.

I think I’m going to throw up. The nausea rose, hot and thick in my throat, but it didn't go away. It pressed down on me, choking me, suffocating me from the inside. My limbs are trembling, my body fighting to stay upright, to stay conscious. But everything is spinning, and I can’t catch my breath.

A strong, urgent grip pulls me away from him. For a split second, I think it’s him.

Ryan?

Maybe he’s calling me a sleepyhead, like he always does when I’m being too dramatic. Maybe he’s somehow alive, somehow okay, surprising me with a date, like he promised. Maybe he’ll joke about how he can’t stand Michael Scofield, but he’ll pretend he’s jealous anyway.

But it’s not him.

It’s not Ryan. It’s a paramedic, tugging me away so they can load him onto the stretcher.

“Wait!” I cry, struggling against the hands holding me. “No, I need to stay! I need to—”

“Ma’am, please, let us do our job,” the paramedic says firmly, their voice urgent but kind.

I’m shoved aside as they lift Ryan’s limp body onto the stretcher. My knees hit the ground, and I clutch at the rough pavement, gasping for air as fresh tears streaked down my face.

The doors of the ambulance open, and they slide him inside.

“No!” I scream, scrambling to my feet. My legs felt like they might give out again, but I force them to move.

I ran after them, my lungs burning, my heart breaking into a million pieces.

“I’m coming with you!” I shouted, desperation lacing every word. My voice cracked, but I didn’t care. I wouldn’t stop. 

I didn’t know if they’d let me in, but I didn’t care. I would fight tooth and nail to stay with him, to hold his hand, to whisper to him that it wasn’t over. That he couldn’t leave me.

Not like that.

The ambulance doors slammed shut with a harsh finality, but I didn’t stop running. My feet were heavy, my body trembling, but there was nothing else in my mind. Nothing except him. Nothing except the fear of losing him.

“Please,” I begged, reaching out as the vehicle began to move, the sirens wailing louder.  “Please, don’t take him from me!”

A pair of hands gripped my shoulders, pulling me back. “Ma’am stop!” someone yelled, but I couldn’t hear them. Not really. All I could hear was the beating of my heart, thundering in my ears, drowning out everything else.

I pulled away from their grip, my fingers slick with sweat, my breath ragged as I struggled to keep up with the ambulance.

“Ryan!” I screamed again, my voice barely audible. “Don’t you dare leave me!”

I was so close to the ambulance, my hands reaching for the door, that I could almost feel the cool metal against my skin. Just a few more steps. I needed to get to him. I needed to be with him.

But the world seemed to conspire against me. Another hand grabbed me, this time more firmly, holding me back. “Ma’am you have to stop!”

I could barely recognize the voice—maybe a paramedic, maybe someone else—but it didn’t matter. I didn’t care. All I cared about was him.

“Let me go!” I screamed, thrashing in their grip, my whole body wracked with sobs. “I need to be with him. I need to stay with him!”

The ambulance accelerated, its speed increasing, and the distance between us widened. My chest tightened, my legs faltering beneath me, but still, I tried to push forward.

I saw the flashing lights grow smaller in the distance, and with each passing second, it felt like a part of me was being torn away.

Please.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.

Then, as if a switch flipped, the world slowed. The air stilled.

I collapsed onto the pavement, my knees hitting the ground with a sickening thud. Tears blurred my vision, and I couldn’t stop them. My body shook, wracked with grief and disbelief, but even as my tears fell, all I could think of was him—Ryan—and how, in that moment, it felt like I had already lost him.

The ambulance disappeared into the distance, but I couldn’t move

My phone rang, piercing through the haze that surrounded me like a thick fog. I stared at the screen, the name "Mom" flashing at me. Normally,I would have ignored it, Ryan would have told me to.

But now,there was the desperation, the need for some connection, some grounding force in the chaos that had become my world. I picked it up.

“Violet,” my mom’s voice came through the line,surprise tinged her voice. “How’ve you been?”

“Mom,” I muttered, my voice thick with emotion, but I couldn’t say more. My throat felt like it was closing up, and the tears I’d been holding back for so long began to spill uncontrollably.

“Violet, what’s wrong? Where are you? Have you been crying?”

I choked on the words. “Ryan... Ryan is...” My voice cracked, the weight of the reality crashing down on me all over again. I couldn’t even bring myself to say it. I didn’t want to.

“What happened to him??” My mom’s tone sharpened, concern cutting through her usual aloofness. 

In that moment, I struggled to breathe between the sobs wracking my body, everything shattered. The piece of me that had been holding on, trying to stay strong, finally let go. And in the silence of my grief, my mother’s voice faded into the background . I couldn’t respond. I couldn’t explain. Because all I could think of was him—the lifeless form of Ryan, fading further away from me with every passing second.

I closed my eyes, but all I saw was red. Red, everywhere