No Love Left for Her

The first gunshot was a flat, ugly pop.

It wasn't like the movies. It just sounded wrong.

I looked up from my SAT prep book, but my sister Sarah didn't even flinch.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

I knew this sound.

I knew this exact moment.

In my last life, this was when I grabbed Sarah, screaming for her to run.

The second shot came, closer.

I dragged her under the table, promising to protect her.

The shooter found us anyway.

I felt the searing pain in my shoulder.

But my focus was on Sarah, bleeding from a bullet to her abdomen.