One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.
That's what the man in the big green fluorescent coat keeps saying, as he pounds my trainer's chest. One, two, three four, no pulse yet, get the defibrillator, we're losing her, then there's a bang, and she jolts. Still no pulse, the man declares. One, two three, four.
I don't understand what any of it means. All I know is that fifteen minutes ago, my trainer was sat beside me, and we were on a train, and we were going to Sunyshore City, for her last gym badge. And now she's on the ground, and there are sirens, and screaming, and crying, and men in big coats, and people and pokemon under sheets.
One, two, three, four. One, two, three four.
It happened way too fast. The train was about to go through a crossing, but some other train also happened to be passing that way. They couldn't stop in time, and the gates couldn't close. And then there was a tremendously loud BANG, and people and pokemon and purses and phones went flying, shattering windows, breaking seats, and knocking over bins, and prams, and little baby carriers. It was chaos. I tried to use protect at the last moment, to save my trainer, but it was no use. She'd already been blown head first into a door.
One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.
Her father's just turned up. He's sped here in his car, and he's now fighting through the chaos to my trainer. She asks if she's gonna be alright, they tell her that they're doing the best they can. Make her be alright, he says, and then he tries to touch her, but they pull him away. Just like they did when I tried to nuzzle her, like I always used to.
One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.
Sirens, screaming, some lady begging the men not to take her little girl away from her. I shudder. They put the girl in a body bag. Then I look over at my trainer. She's not going to end up like her. She can't end up like her.
One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.
Unresponsive. We have a pulse. Her heart's fibrillating. Cardiac arrest. I don't know what any of it means, but her father's screaming. He reaches out, tries to hold her, and I try to do the same, but they pull us away.
One, two, three...
The man has stopped. The other people in big coats look grim. They start putting their machines away. I bark at them, try to tell them to stop. That they have to save her. Her father's begging them to try at least one more round of CPR, whatever that is, but they refuse. It's no use, she's dead, they tell him.
My mouth hangs open. Dead. No, that can't be. My trainer, my Cindy, can't be dead.
One of them turns around, notices me barking indignantly, begging them to save her. She gives me a sympathetic look.
"I'm sorry, Houndoom," she says, trying to pet me, "But there was nothing else we could do."
I ignore her, and look over at Cindy's father. He's holding her, though they've covered her face with a sheet. He's saying all sorts. Please, Arceus, take me instead. I'm sorry for all I've done. I'll never ask for anything again, if I could just have her back. I'd say all of that too, if I could speak.
I break free from the woman, turning in the opposite direction. I run.
Why did it have to be my Cindy?
I need my Cindy...
I want my Cindy back...
That's what the man in the big green fluorescent coat keeps saying, as he pounds my trainer's chest. One, two, three four, no pulse yet, get the defibrillator, we're losing her, then there's a bang, and she jolts. Still no pulse, the man declares. One, two three, four.
I don't understand what any of it means. All I know is that fifteen minutes ago, my trainer was sat beside me, and we were on a train, and we were going to Sunyshore City, for her last gym badge. And now she's on the ground, and there are sirens, and screaming, and crying, and men in big coats, and people and pokemon under sheets.
One, two, three, four. One, two, three four.
It happened way too fast. The train was about to go through a crossing, but some other train also happened to be passing that way. They couldn't stop in time, and the gates couldn't close. And then there was a tremendously loud BANG, and people and pokemon and purses and phones went flying, shattering windows, breaking seats, and knocking over bins, and prams, and little baby carriers. It was chaos. I tried to use protect at the last moment, to save my trainer, but it was no use. She'd already been blown head first into a door.
One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.
Her father's just turned up. He's sped here in his car, and he's now fighting through the chaos to my trainer. She asks if she's gonna be alright, they tell her that they're doing the best they can. Make her be alright, he says, and then he tries to touch her, but they pull him away. Just like they did when I tried to nuzzle her, like I always used to.
One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.
Sirens, screaming, some lady begging the men not to take her little girl away from her. I shudder. They put the girl in a body bag. Then I look over at my trainer. She's not going to end up like her. She can't end up like her.
One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.
Unresponsive. We have a pulse. Her heart's fibrillating. Cardiac arrest. I don't know what any of it means, but her father's screaming. He reaches out, tries to hold her, and I try to do the same, but they pull us away.
One, two, three...
The man has stopped. The other people in big coats look grim. They start putting their machines away. I bark at them, try to tell them to stop. That they have to save her. Her father's begging them to try at least one more round of CPR, whatever that is, but they refuse. It's no use, she's dead, they tell him.
My mouth hangs open. Dead. No, that can't be. My trainer, my Cindy, can't be dead.
One of them turns around, notices me barking indignantly, begging them to save her. She gives me a sympathetic look.
"I'm sorry, Houndoom," she says, trying to pet me, "But there was nothing else we could do."
I ignore her, and look over at Cindy's father. He's holding her, though they've covered her face with a sheet. He's saying all sorts. Please, Arceus, take me instead. I'm sorry for all I've done. I'll never ask for anything again, if I could just have her back. I'd say all of that too, if I could speak.
I break free from the woman, turning in the opposite direction. I run.
Why did it have to be my Cindy?
I need my Cindy...
I want my Cindy back...