"Let go," she cried, as he grabbed her carefully from behind, and brought her down. "Leave me alone."
Atlas turned her around to face him. "It's me, Aveline. Look at me. Open your eyes," he said, cupping her cheeks into his hands.
She swayed, and almost fell, but he caught her immediately.
He pushed his phone into his pockets, and then carried her into his arms, bridal style.
Atlas hurried out of the balcony, the emergency of the situation clearer to him than ever before.
He stopped briefly to grab her purse which he held with his mouth, and then hurried out of the gallery.
There was no time to cross check if walking out was enough to shut the doors of the gallery.
Aveline was more important.
He placed her in the backseat, and then hopped into the front seat.
Aveline was conscious, but she couldn't bring herself to open her eyes.
She was scared to death of what she would see, because in her head, she was dead already.
