God there's so much blood.
Blood everywhere, bright crimson the only colour I see.
It oozes between my fingers as I desperately apply pressure to her stomach. It's not her only wound, but it's by far the worst.
I've pushed everything else to the periphery. The only thing I see is her, as my brain slowly processes everything that has happened in the last couple of minutes. It files everything in order to form this nightmare of a reality that is ripping me apart.
The sound of gun shots tearing through the night, the sound of running and more shots being fired and the frantic shouts coming from inside the house.
"OFFICER DOWN, OFFICER DOWN."
Its funny how when you look back on moments in your life, you remember the weirdest, most insignificant thing. As I got closer to her all I could think about was the fact that her kit had been knocked over.
I was consumed with the thought that she would be no end of pissed when she saw its contents scattered all over the floor. The majority of it now splattered with blood, contaminated and unusable.
It was a second later that I realised that the blood was hers and that right at this moment she wasn't in any position to give a shit.
I fell to my knees next to her and knew straight away it wasn't good. There was already a pool of blood forming on the floor.
And this is where I find myself. Pushing down on her stomach while Sofia does the same to a nasty looking shoulder wound.
She had been reasonably alert when Sofia and I had gotten to her, but as the precious seconds tick by she is slipping just that little bit further away from us, away from me.
We are both talking to her, saying anything that pops into our heads. She is looking up at the ceiling, her eyes staying closed longer and longer in between blinks.
I have always loved her eyes. They are always so expressive, so alive even when she has on her cool "I am an ice queen" game face. But now, each time she opens them it is a struggle. Each time she opens them, the deep, sparkling pools of brown that I long for are becoming duller.
I was concentrating on her so hard that I didn't hear the ambulance pull up. I only knew the medics had arrived when I was man handled out of the way so that they could get to her.
The next thing I know, I'm sitting next to Sofia in the waiting room of the hospital doing what I absolutely hate with a passion - waiting. We're both sitting here in overalls, having been processed for evidence which included giving them our clothes.
* * * *
It wasn't until after she had been brought out of surgery that we all found out how close we had come to losing her.
The doctor who came to see us explained that Sara had died once in the ambulance and twice on the operating table. Luckily, each time they had been able to bring her back.
All that keeps bouncing around in my head is that Sara had almost gone.
He had been candid enough to reveal that he was surprised that she survived. Well I've got news for him Sara Sidle is one tough cookie. It will take a hell of a lot more than a couple of bullets to kill her.
I feel as though I've been cast adrift on the ocean, with no map, no markings to find my way. My feelings for Sara had long ago developed into something that I had been trying to deny and right now for the life of me I can't think why.
Suddenly all my logical, well thought out excuses for why I haven't taken a chance seem hollow. As I sit next to Sara's hospital bed I know that when she is well enough I am going to roll the dice and take perhaps the biggest gamble that I've ever taken with my heart.
Because I love her.