The bullet struck the massive crystal chandelier on the ceiling. In an instant, it shattered into thousands of razor-sharp shards, raining down like a lethal, shimmering storm over Tyler and me. Tyler let out a shriek—not a "heroic" one, mind you, but a high-pitched, soul-crushing scream that made my ears bleed.
And me? Driven by that same, stupid, protective instinct that I clearly need to talk to a therapist about, I lunged toward him.
At that exact micro-second, another gunshot erupted from the heavy iron entrance of the club, and time simply... stopped. In the middle of this absolute chaos, the security guards, eyes wild with unhuman fury, started spraying bullets everywhere. A red stain began to bloom on Tyler's pristine white t-shirt—a flash of crimson that struck my eyes like a bolt of lightning.
Tyler collapsed to the floor, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, his mouth agape as the only word he could muster escaped his lips."Maddy... Oh,I see stars..."
"I'm dying..."he said.
