Chapter Text
June 7, 2024
I don't know how long I was running down the empty street in it. Maybe I was running for minutes, maybe for hours. I was running without looking back until I was out of breath.
I'm Carina DeLuca. I came to this world to save lives. Since I was little, I had one goal: to become a doctor and save people.
And how did I reverse this? How did I cause a person to lose her life when I should have saved a life?
I stood panting, looking at my hands. I noticed how much my hands were shaking. With these hands that I saved lives with, I had killed a person. No, I had not killed a human being; I had killed the woman I loved.
How could a person kill the woman she loved? I had killed her, I was carrying his blood on my hands, on me.
I pushed my hair, which was wet from the rain and stuck to my face, with my hands. I looked at my shredded biker jacket. I had minor abrasions, but I didn't have many wounds. Because the woman I loved had received all the wounds.
I turned around, I saw her. She was standing there in the middle of the road, her face covered in blood, with her wounds. She was smiling at me. I wanted to scream, I wanted to scream until my throat was torn out. But it was like I lost my voice, I couldn't scream.
When I closed my eyes and opened them, she was gone. She wasn't there. I walked slowly towards the scene of the accident. Did the killer always return to the crime scene? The closer I got, the more my heart was squeezing. It was getting hard for me to breathe.
When I came back, my eye was caught on my motorcycle, which was dragged and almost smashed. Light fumes were coming out of it. I then looked at the woman lying motionless on the floor, her face covered with blood, with multiple wounds on her body.
I looked at the woman I loved.
Her blonde hair was wet from the rain, her skin was pale. She was lying motionless on the floor, not breathing because of me. I had killed her, I had become the murderer of the woman I loved.
I tried to call an ambulance many times after the accident. I couldn't call because there was no signal. But I was a doctor, I could have saved it, right? I tried, I did CPR many times. But no matter what I did, I couldn't save her.
I was to blame for the whole thing. She told me that we should not go, she said that he did not have a helmet, she did not have the necessary equipment for a motorcycle. So why didn't I listen? Why was I so stubborn?
I killed a person because of my own stubbornness, I broke my hippocratic oath. I swore that I would save people as long as I lived in this world, but I caused the death of a human being.
It wasn't her who should be lying on that floor, it was me. It wasn't her who had to die, it was me who had to die. I was supposed to be in her place.
So what was I supposed to do now? Was I going to run away? Or was I going to go and turn myself in to the police? It was an accident, yes, but I was guilty. After all, he rode my motorcycle without a helmet, without protective clothing. She was my responsibility, her life was in my hands.
I was the killer of a woman with dreams, young captain of Station 19, and most importantly, the woman I loved.
How was I supposed to live with that?
Would I have been able to live with that?
How was I going to live without Maya Bishop?