The ambulance doors slammed shut with a dull, heavy thud as Damon's lifeless body was wheeled inside, zipped up in a body bag. The scene was still, the chaos of earlier evaporating into the stale air of the school courtyard. The sirens that had blared moments ago faded into the distance, but the weight of what had just happened hung over the crowd, thick and suffocating.
Jayla stood at the edge of the crowd, her hands trembling as she wiped the tears that refused to stop falling. Her face was streaked with dirt, remnants of the frantic, desperate attempts to save Damon. She had tried. She had fought so hard, pressing her hands against the wound, shouting for someone to help, but it had been useless.
She could still hear the sound of his breath—ragged, shallow, as the life drained from him. The memory was seared into her mind, too vivid, too real. She hadn't even known Damon well—only from class, a fleeting glance here and there—but that didn't matter now. He had been alive, and then, just like that, he wasn't.
Her legs felt weak, but she refused to sit down. Her eyes stayed fixed on the ambulance as if somehow, if she stared long enough, they would open the doors and tell her that it had all been a mistake—that he wasn't gone.
She wiped her face again, but the tears wouldn't stop.
"Jayla?"
Her head snapped to the voice that broke through the fog of her grief. A police officer, tall and firm in his stance, was walking towards her. His uniform was neat, but his expression was softened by concern. He was a stranger, yet there was something about his demeanor that gave her a sliver of comfort, as though he understood the depth of what she had witnessed.
"I'm Officer Martinez," he said gently, standing a few feet away from her, giving her space. "I need you to be calm, alright? I know this is... a lot to take in."
Jayla couldn't respond at first. She simply nodded, her throat tight. There were no words. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to feel, but the shock was still gripping her, leaving her numb and empty.
"Do you need anything? Water? A place to sit?" Officer Martinez asked, his voice a calming balm to the storm inside her.
She shook her head quickly, not trusting herself to speak. She had so many questions—What happened? Why did he do it? Why him?—but none of those words made it past the lump in her throat.
Instead, she looked back at the ambulance, at the place where Damon's body had been moments ago. She thought she might collapse, but somehow, she managed to stay on her feet.
Martinez seemed to understand. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, his grip gentle. "I know this is hard," he continued, his voice steady. "But I need you to stay strong. We're going to make sure we get the answers, okay? Damon's death won't go unanswered."
Jayla nodded again, more slowly this time. She didn't know what to say. The words felt hollow.
She hadn't even realized how tightly her fists were clenched until she felt the officer's touch. Her body trembled at the shock of it all. The realization that Damon was gone settled in her chest like a stone, heavy and cold.
"He didn't deserve this," she whispered, her voice breaking. Her breath hitched as she struggled to maintain control. "He was... he was just trying to help."
Martinez gave her a quiet, understanding look. He didn't say anything more at first, allowing her the silence she needed to gather her thoughts.
"Did you know him well?" Martinez asked softly, his tone gentle, respectful.
She took a deep breath, her heart still heavy with grief. "Not really. We were in a few classes together. But... he was always quiet. Always. He didn't deserve what happened."
Martinez nodded, acknowledging her words. He glanced briefly at the group of students still standing around, their faces a mixture of confusion, fear, and disbelief. They were all witnesses—silent spectators to a crime that had shattered the peace of their school.
"Did you see what happened?" he asked, focusing his attention back on her.
Jayla hesitated. Her mind was spinning with images—Damon falling to the ground, the blood, the frantic crowd. The horror of it all was overwhelming. "Yes," she finally whispered. "I tried to save him. I—"
The officer raised a hand, cutting her off gently. "It's okay, Jayla. You've been through enough. We'll get the full story from the others. Right now, I just need to make sure you're okay."
"I'm not okay," she said quietly, her voice thick with emotion. "How could I be?"
The officer gave her a small, sympathetic smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. He understood what she meant. There was no way to be okay after something like this.
Suddenly, a distant sound caught their attention. Jayla looked over, her eyes widening as a group of paramedics wheeled an injured student toward a separate ambulance. They were the friends of the boy who had been with Sean—the ones Damon had left broken and bruised. They had been witnesses, too, but they weren't about to be as innocent as the rest of the students.
They were going to be interrogated. Their involvement was clear.
As the paramedics moved the injured students into the waiting ambulance, Jayla couldn't tear her gaze away from the sight. She thought of Damon again, the vision of him lying still on the ground, of his blood staining the pavement. It was as though it was all happening in slow motion now, as if the world itself had stopped moving.
And yet, everything around her continued to spin.
Officer Martinez took one last look at her. "Stay here, Jayla. We'll talk more once we have everything sorted."
She nodded absently, her gaze drifting back to the ambulance as the doors slammed shut.
She could only think of Damon.
How could someone so... quiet, be taken so violently?
The question swirled in her head, but all she could do was stand there, rooted to the spot, and wait for the world to make sense again.