Outside, the situation escalated in a way that only confirmed my fears.
The older man’s knees buckled.
His body gave out completely.
The bikers lowered him to the ground, one supporting his head, the other crouching beside him.
“He just collapsed,” I whispered, my breath catching. “Oh my God—they knocked him down.”
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The younger biker began pressing on the man’s chest, his movements quick and rhythmic.
My mind filled in the gaps with terrifying certainty.
“They’ve killed him,” I said, the words leaving my mouth before I could stop them.
The dispatcher continued speaking, asking questions, telling me help was on the way, but her voice blurred into the background as sirens began to echo faintly in the distance, growing louder with each passing second.
I sat there, frozen, watching through the windshield as everything unfolded, convinced that I was witnessing something terrible, something irreversible.
