Page 18 of Beyond Redemption

“Don’t talk. Listen carefully. Stay exactly where you are. Stay low. Make sure no one in that room makes a sound. No talking, no crying, no moving. If you have to breathe, breathe slowly and quietly. Don’t answer me.”

Silence.

“You’re doing so well, kiddo. You’re going to be okay. Hang tight, we’re three minutes out, then we’re coming straight to you.”

Thomas spoke to Bodhi on his phone, voice hushed but urgent. “Stay put, Bodhi. No… no, do not go looking for her. We’re handling it. We’ll find Sunny too.”

I refocused. “If you hear anything in the hall, don’t speak. Stay hidden.”

“I don’t… The um… the windows are…”

“Livvy, don’t look out the windows.”

I heard her quietly strain, a faint shuffle.

“Oh my God…” she whispered, her voice shaking.

“You looked outside? What do you see?”

Her whisper trembled so violently I could barely make it out. “Laptops left on the Green… blankets… backpacks… everyone just… everything’s still there. Like they ran. All at once.”

My throat tightened. Silence stretched. Then she sobbed once, but it sounded as if she was stifling it with her hand.

“I see bodies on the ground,” she whispered. She inhaled sharply, then the phone scraped against something.

“Livvy?”

Her whisper came out shredded. “There’s… there’s blood.”

“She needs to back off the windows,” Thomas said. “Now. Tell her go back to her hiding spot.”

I took a breath. “Livvy, listen to me. Get away from the windows. Go back to the closet.”

“They’re—” she choked, “everywhere.”

“Look away, Livvy,” I said, gentle but firm. “Look away. Your one goal—the only thing that matters—is staying hidden and staying quiet, remember? Go now.”

Her breathing came fast and sharp.

I muted the phone, looking to Thomas. “She’s going to lose it. She’s triggered from… She’s going to lose it.”

“Talk to her,” Thomas said, pulling onto campus. “Let her hear your voice.”

I unmuted the phone. “Put your hand over your mouth if you need to,” I coached. “Count your breaths. Slow them down. You’re safe where you are. Count quietly. Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good. You’re doing so good, Livvy.” I pressed my fingers hard into my own knee, grounding myself so she didn’t hear the fear trying to bleed into my voice. “We’re on campus. We’re coming to get you.”

Through the windshield, the first barricades came into view. Police cruisers. Students crying on sidewalks. Yellow tape fluttering in the breeze. Roads flooded with flashing lights. Squad cars and fire trucks clogged the entrance, officers waving us toward the east lot. Students clustered on the sidewalks, some wrapped in blankets, some staring at nothing with empty expressions.

Thomas eased off the gas. He held his badge out the window to the first uniform who tried to wave us back, his expression carved from determination only a father could feel.

Thomas nodded to the officer and turned the wheel. “Tell her we’re pulling up to the east perimeter.”

“We’re here,” I reassured her. “Hold on just a little longer.”

Her whisper came back, small and raw. “Please hurry. I think I heard more gunshots.”