I plug the wound with my fingers to staunch the flow of blood that pools and darkens the earth.
Your skin is pale, lips tinged blue. Sweat beads upon your forehead.
Nausea sloshes around inside me and I take a deep breath to quash my panic.
A bullet whizzes past my ear, grazing my skin. I shield your body with mine and strain for the sound of a helicopter.
Your lungs rattle once, twice and then you are still. Silent.
I sob into your chest until your uniform is sodden.
I wanted peace. I am in pieces.
God help me.
Written for Friday Fictioneers. A 100 word story inspired by a photo prompt. Read the other entries here.