distance. The Police are coming: thank God!
As they pile out of their cars, no one asks any questions as they rush over to break up the fighting. It takes about five officers to untangle you both. Once they pull him off of you, you’re wheezing in pain, grabbing at your chest, and trying to catch your breath. I exhale as they hold him to the ground, fitting him into a pair of handcuffs.
Paramedics swarm the scene, rushing over to you on the ground. Four are tending to you, checking for any severe wounds. After a few minutes, you wave them off, assuring them that you’re fine as officers haul their criminal off to a car. Two of them spot me and rush over, taking in the blood dripping from my hairline. I don't remember how I’d ended up lying on the ground. They’re speaking, but I can’t follow their words. Everything seems muffled, numb.
I barely feel the dabbing at my forehead from one of the muffled paramedics. I see officers get to their car, but I can't help flinching as they shove him into the back seat, slamming the door.
Flashlights dance in front of my pupils, and I blink. The reassuring woman in front of me comes into focus.