BANG

The following day after the meeting. 

In the monotonous hum of the college classroom, Rylee found herself ensnared in the all-too-familiar grip of boredom. The professor's words, intended to enlighten and engage, instead floated through the air like forgotten whispers, failing to anchor her wandering thoughts. With each tick of the clock, her mind drifted further away from the academic discourse, seeking refuge in a more enticing world of 'what ifs' and 'if onlys.'

'Haaaa, I just want to go home. Do I need to even be here now?' she mused internally, her gaze lost to the world outside the window where freedom beckoned. The reality of her family's newfound affluence, courtesy of her brother Wesley's staggering success, cast a long shadow over the necessity of her educational pursuits. 'Our family is more than wealthy now with Wesley,' she thought, a mix of pride and frustration swirling within her. The missed opportunity to visit Wesley's island, a casualty of her academic commitments, lingered in her mind like a stubborn echo, 'And the worst part is... I missed out on going to his island because of a stupid exam.'

Meanwhile, the tranquility of the campus was unwittingly on the cusp of being shattered. A car, nondescript yet ominous in its intent, made its stealthy approach towards the heart of youthful aspirations and dreams. Within its confines, men shrouded in anonymity plotted with cold precision. "Sir, based on our information from her college, she should be getting out of class within the next 30 minutes," one of the men, his face concealed to thwart any attempt at identification, informed his cohort. The atmosphere inside the car was charged with a palpable tension, a stark contrast to the unsuspecting normalcy of the college campus they neared.

Their plan was sinister in its simplicity – a drive-by that would sow chaos and fear in its wake. The man's hands moved with practiced ease as he readied his weapon, the metallic click of the gun chambering a bullet echoing ominously within the confines of the vehicle. The sleek black pistol, an instrument of their dark intentions, lay ready in his grasp, a harbinger of the turmoil about to unfold.

As the final minutes of her class ticked away, Rylee, blissfully unaware of the impending danger, gathered her belongings with the slow resignation of one burdened by the mundane. Her thoughts meandered through a maze of daily concerns – homework, social engagements, a longing to connect with her family, and a casual scroll through her brother's revolutionary social media platform.

But fate, with its unpredictable cruelty, had other plans. The screech of tires tore through the air, shattering the illusion of safety and normalcy. Rylee's heart raced as she turned towards the sound, only to be met with the chilling sight of a black car barreling towards her, far too fast for the serene campus setting. Time seemed to slow as the car window descended, revealing the masked visage of a man whose intentions were clear as the cold steel of the gun he wielded.

The gunshot, a violent exclamation in the otherwise peaceful day, rang out with finality. Rylee's body gave way to the force of the bullet, sending her crashing to the ground amidst a burgeoning pool of her own blood. The campus, once a bastion of youthful exuberance and scholarly pursuit, was plunged into chaos as screams pierced the air. Witnesses, propelled by a mix of fear and adrenaline, rushed to her aid, their frantic calls for an ambulance a desperate plea for salvation amidst the unfolding nightmare.

The horrific scene that had unfolded continued to cause panic in those around, hoping that the ambulance would arrive in time. Not knowing if they would watch this girl breathe her last breath. 

The wail of sirens cut through the air, a harbinger of urgency as the ambulance, a beacon of hope amidst the chaos, made its swift journey to the scene. Paramedics, their faces set in determined lines, sprang into action with practiced efficiency, their hands moving deftly to stabilize Rylee amidst the anxious crowd that had gathered. With no time to lose, they whisked her away, the ambulance cutting a determined path through the city towards the sanctuary of the hospital.

There, a flurry of activity awaited as doctors and nurses, a symphony of medical expertise, converged to wage a delicate battle against time and trauma. The hospital's corridors echoed with the swift footsteps of those committed to preserving life, their faces etched with the weight of responsibility as they navigated the intricate dance of emergency care.

The news of the incident, a cruel bolt from the blue, reached Andrew and Rachel Barnes, who were thrust into a maelstrom of fear and confusion. Driven by a primal urgency, they rushed to the hospital, hearts laden with dread at the thought of their daughter's plight. The hospital, a place where hope and despair intermingle, became the stage for their vigil.

Upon their arrival, the sight of police officers stationed outside Rylee's room added a layer of solemnity to the situation. Andrew, his paternal instincts in overdrive, attempted to bypass the officers, his mind singularly focused on reaching his daughter's side. 

"Sir! We need to talk with you!" the officer shouted trying to grab ahold of Andrew as he tried to make his way into his daughters room.

"GET OUT OF MY WAY! THAT IS MY LITTLE GIRL IN THERE!" Anger, fear, and worry could be seen within Andrew's eyes, wanting to make sure his daughter was going to be alright.

The officers, embodying a blend of empathy and duty, eventually managed to convey the gravity of the incident to the anxious parents, their questions probing for a motive, a reason behind the senseless act.

Andrew and Rachel, though shaken, could think of no direct threat, their minds inevitably circling back to their son Wesley, whose meteoric rise had catapulted their family into the global spotlight. The connection, tenuous yet undeniable, cast a shadow of concern over them, the implications of their newfound prominence dawning with a heavy weight.

As hours ticked by, the hospital's sterile environment became a crucible of emotions for Andrew and Rachel. Andrew, a portrait of restless anxiety, paced the corridors, while Rachel, seated in quiet desperation, clung to her faith, her prayers a silent plea for divine intervention.

The moment of reckoning arrived when the lead surgeon, his demeanor a mixture of exhaustion and solemnity, emerged from the operating theater. Immediately moving from their seats, Andrew and Rachel approached the doctor wanting to hear the news.

"Haaa, we have managed to stabilize and your daughter is alive. The bullet pierced her stomach and quite frankly she was very close to death. Unfortunately, because of this, she is now in a comatose state, and by our guesses, we have no idea if she will ever wake up. I am sorry." The doctor said in a cold, tired tone, realizing the gravity of such a situation and having to present it to the patient's parents. These were the moments that no doctor or surgeon ever looked forward to. 

Upon hearing the news, Rachel's tears started to stream down her face, a raw outpouring of relief and sorrow, were a testament to the fragility of life and the strength of a mother's love. Andrew, a pillar of support in their shared moment of vulnerability, acknowledged the surgeon with a nod, a silent gesture of gratitude and acknowledgment of the long road ahead.

In the aftermath of the doctor's departure, the hospital room became a sanctuary of quiet despair and muted hope, a space where time seemed to stand still, and the future hung in the balance, shrouded in uncertainty.