“Is he a doctor?”
“He shouldn’t be touching her.”
“What about liability?”
Liability.
As if helping someone required paperwork first.
The woman’s breathing faltered again.
I removed my gloves and gently lifted her head so her airway stayed open.
“That’s enough,” the younger guard said.
Enough.
As if there was a limit to how much someone should care.
I raised my hands briefly to show I wasn’t trying to cause trouble. “I know basic first aid.”
They didn’t seem reassured.
To them I was still a risk. A stranger in leather kneeling over someone on the floor.
The murmurs around us grew louder.
“Call 911!”
“I already did!”
The buzzing lights above us seemed louder now. My heartbeat matched their hum.
The woman’s eyelids fluttered.
“You’re okay,” I told her quietly. “Stay with me.”
The guard spoke again. “Stand up, sir.”
I shook my head slightly. “Not yet.”
That was enough to change the atmosphere completely.
To them it sounded like defiance.
And defiance meant danger.
People pulled their kids closer. Someone stepped between us like a barrier. Phones angled for a better view.
The younger guard reached toward my arm.
“Don’t make this worse.”
Worse.
As if kneeling beside her was the problem.