We see what we want to see.

And this . . . I never saw coming.

At first I thought it was leftover fireworks from the fourth. No. That's not true. I told myself that's what they were. Because I felt like the clock had finally stopped. The countdown had reached zero. I knew this was not innocent child's play.

I ran to the door and flung it open. And that's when I saw Bobby on his knees, clenching his abdomen, his white shirt growing red.

Stan stood behind him, holding the gun, but his eyes were glazed over.

“Stan!” I screamed in a blood-curdling voice. “What did you do? What did you do?” I cried, running to Bobby as he slumped to his side.

“Lilly?” Stan murmured, seemingly ripped out of his trance. The sound of footsteps and murmurs coming towards us scared Stan away. The gun slipped from his hand. He ran to his car and sped out of the lot.

I laid Bobby onto his back, cradling him in my arms.

This couldn't be our story. I finally had him. We wagered everything. We paid our dues. We suffered. We earned our chance.

“Call an ambulance!” I yelled to those who ran over. “You're gonna be okay, Bobby,” I wept, placing my hand over his, pressing down on a wound.

His eyes were open, and he was still coherent. “Lilly, listen . . . I need you to call Will.”

“Don't talk like that,” I rebelled against his tone of resignation.

“Lil . . .” his eyes were warm and comforting despite the obvious pain he was in. “I was supposed to die on the hill . . . but Curtis gave me the extra time to find you. To tell you I never left you.”

“Stop . . . you're gonna be fine . . .” But his face grew whiter, while white on his shirt had all but disappeared.

“I got so much more. These were the best weeks of my life. And I got to have all of you for a day. So I'm gonna be okay . . .” His voice dissipated. I patted his face frantically to keep him awake.

“No!” I shouted. “You don't get to leave. You are the best part of me, Bobby.” I sobbed into his neck. “I'll have nothing left.” I cradled him back and forth like a baby. Like I could nurse life back into his body.

His eyes opened again, as if he had used sheer will to stay a little longer.

“Promise me . . . you won't . . . stay. You won't get pulled back in. Live a . . . hundred . . . lives for us.” His words came out in staccato bursts as his chest quivered.

I didn't want to promise. Because that would be accepting that Bobby would be gone.

“No . . . you have to stay.”

“Promise,” he rasped.

I nodded. “A million.” Those words I had just uttered to him minutes before were full of promise. They were a vow to support each other in living our lives to the fullest. To making up for the years we lost. To sharing our lives with each other. Now, they were comfort to a dying man. Now they would become a responsibility I had to shoulder alone. They were a solemn oath.

“Will . . .”

I nodded, assuring him I would follow his instructions.

“You promised you wouldn't leave,” I cried into his ear.

He turned the hand on his abdomen up and threaded his blood-soaked fingers into mine. “Never,” he mouthed.

“No . . . no,” I sobbed.

Hands gripped my shoulders and pulled me away as I wrestled them.

“Ma'am. Ma'am. The ambulance is here,” a voice from behind said firmly.

I watched helplessly as the men worked on Bobby. The life slipped from my body, as if I had died but was somehow still breathing.

“Ma'am. Ma'am . . .” a distant voice echoed. I looked up at the stranger in a daze.

“I think you're bleeding.”

I looked down at my hands and the shirt of Bobby's that I was wearing. Of course I was covered in blood. Idiot.

“No,” he insisted, pointing to the ground. A few droplets of dark blood were on the asphalt just underneath me. Another fell. Another. I used my hands, covered in Bobby's blood to slowly pull up the hem of the shirt. I had no room for shame in front of these people. They had just witnessed the rape of my soul.

My white underwear had a red spot. And then things went blurry. My knees burned, and I realized I was on all fours. Everything sounded distant, but through the deafening incoherent mumbling, I watched as Bobby was loaded onto the back of the ambulance.

I reached out for him as people circled me, trying to help. But they weren't helping, they were letting those people take the best part of me away. They were letting those people rip me in two. I couldn't leave him. I couldn't let them take him from me.

A wave of nausea hit me like a baseball bat to the stomach and I retched so hard it hurt. I hoped it would kill me. I didn't want to live on a planet again were Bobby Lightly didn't exist.

Hands reached for me, and I fought them. Scratching. Clawing. A sharp prick in my arm contrasted with the haziness of the scene around me. And then everything became warm until there was nothing.

It only took a few seconds after I woke up for me to start shouting for Bobby.

A nurse ran over to me. Told me it was the middle of the night and I was disturbing the other patients.

“Bobby—Robert—Lightly. Is he okay?” I pleaded frantically.

“I don't know who that is ma'am,” she answered stoically.

“Please . . . call the police or the—someone must know in this hospital,” I cried.

I glanced out the window behind me at the ink black night. I didn't know how long I had been sedated.

“Your sister is on her way. Please calm down.”

“I don't want to fucking calm down!” I shouted. “Bobby Lightly. Bobby Lightly. Bobby Lightly!” I chanted his name over and over. As if I could summon him. Other nurses hurried over and held me down. “Let go!” I shouted. I flailed as they strapped me to my bed. I didn't feel the prick of the needle this time, but a warmth came over me. Under any other circumstances, it would have felt nice, to have that tingling in my veins, lulling me into my own personal night. But I didn't want to waste time if Bobby was still alive. I needed to be by his side.

“Bobby . . . Lightly . . . Bob . . .” I muttered before the warmth cloaked me in darkness.

Opening my eyes hurt this time. The sun was bright and a stark contrast to blackness that had been my world since I collapsed on the motel parking lot. I squinted at the blurry figure sitting to my left. I made her out slowly as the fuzzy edges sharpened. Pinned-up ashen blonde hair, freckled cheeks, hazel eyes. My sister and I were so different, even down to the way we looked. Me, with my chestnut hair and copper brown eyes. Though I had a few freckles, I browned in the sun. She was always one to sit in the shade. She couldn't last ten minutes without turning red.

“Julia?” I choked out.

She leaned in. “Shhhh . . . I'm going to get a nurse,” she whispered softly.

I gripped her forearm, and she looked me, shocked. I remembered the restraints and wondered why they were no longer on. I assumed it was Julia's doing.

“Bobby . . . is he okay?” I asked.

“I should get a doctor first.”

“Tell me,” I demanded through a clenched jaw.

My sister looked at me with tender eyes. It was a rare moment. She shook her head.

“No. No. No. No . . .” I sobbed. “It can't be true . . . you're lying . . .” I cried. I hoped this was some ploy to separate us.

Julia quickly looked around, hoping to get a doctor's attention as my fingers sunk into her arm with no concern for her comfort. “He died in the ambulance. I’m sorry.” She grimaced from a mixture of physical and emotional anguish.