Disclaimer: Not mine, all made up.
Characters: mainly Nazim, Marie and some Michael
Summary: Nazim was waiting for the perfect shot
A/N: I'm just feeling my way into this fandom (which doesn't seem to exist and will totally kill me), any comments are appreciated. Unbeated. Written for 2dozenowies, prompt 17 - psychological trauma.
The woman’s slips were pressed together into a thing line. In her left arm, she was clutching the little girl; in her right hand she was gripping a 9mm, pointing it straight at Marie.
“Please, just put down the gun…”
Nazim didn’t hear Marie’s desperately pleas as he drew aim on the woman from his position behind the door. He tracked every minute movement, waiting for the perfect shot.
It was a moment’s decision. Nazim saw an opening and pulled the trigger.
The woman’s lips formed a perfect ‘o’ in utter surprise at Nazim’s bullet hit her.
There was hardly any blood visible. It blended with her long black hair into a shiny, dark halo around her head. For the first time, Nazim noticed how young she really was. She looked barely out of her teens, but tension had made her small face ten years older.
“ Nazim! Nazim!” Marie calling his name broke the spell that had frozen him in place. He only needed a second to take in the scene before his training sprung him into action.
He found a stack of towels in laundry basket and used them to staunch the flow of blood from Michael’s wound. When Michael moaned weakly under his hands, he even felt a sliver of relief and forgot about all the men he hadn’t been able to save
Nazim could still hear it. The girl’s scream as her mother was thrown back by the force of his bullet played over and over in his mind. It was his punishment to hear the screams of an innocent victim that Nazim had robbed of a mother.
“Any news?” Marie was still wearing the same clothes, blood spattered across her white blouse. She had tried to wash up, but Nazim could still see specks of dried blood on her arms, were she had pulled up the sleeves of her ruined blouse. It was blood he had shed.
Nazim simply shook his head.
“It’s only been two hours,” Marie said to reassure not only herself but both of them. “No news is probably good news right now.”
“How is the girl?” Nazim had to force the words out.
“Her name is Janya. She checked out just fine. Children’s services picked her up an hour ago. I spoke with Thea. Michael’s parents are on their way.”
Oh god, he hadn’t even been thinking of them until now. He had been so wrapped up in the memories of the shooting that all he had done was deal of guilt and recriminations, mostly at himself.
“I’m going to meet them at the airport,” Marie said and was already getting up to leave.
“No, you can stay here. I’ll do it.” Michael’s parents wouldn’t be the only ones with questions that night, but their Nazim could answer.
“Are you sure?” Marie looked at him with concern.
“Yes, I am. I need to do this.”