Re: 13:18 CAB
The kid slid away like she hadn't been dead weight a second ago, lying heavy in her lap until the rest of her was numb. Strong arms and scrubs lifted her away with rapid-rattle words and terms and workmanlike skill -- as if every day kids came in with gunshots, not a muscle-flicker-leap to say any different. A sickening roil of the stomach -- nowadays, they did. When she was gone, and suddenly, Eve's lap was light again and she was sticky in the blood of a girl whose name she didn't know, she set about ignoring Hal the way of good, discrete cab-drivers, the way of knowing she'd be paying for the blood on the back-seat that had drenched the upholstery, even if it hadn't been anything to write home about and rave beforehand.
"You're hurt." Flat, because another shoulda-coulda-why were you so stupid sprang to mind, and Eve didn't question why she was feeling the slow kick of guilt to the gut because questioning would lead to running -- away from this carnival of costumes and kids with big hopes and hearts and no understanding of how the world's heartbeat pulsed beneath the carnage of civility. Running wouldn't get the girl patched up, but the orderly and nurse were spinning away back inside the hospital and Eve turned her head deliberately away from the window and sat forward, saturated like a horror-film extra, elbows on knees and her chin resting against the heel of a palm and gusted a sigh like a silent promise.