Six hours

That’s how long Dominick Carisi had been trapped inside that corner store, six hours of tension stretched so tight it felt like it might snap at any second. Six hours of trying to keep people alive. Six hours of watching things he knew would stay with him long after tonight

His suit is wrinkled, his tie hanging loose around his neck. There was dried blood on his sleeve that wasn’t his. His eyes were distant, unfocused, still trapped somewhere inside those four walls

He’d watched a man die. He’d listened to another victim being groomed next door. And for six hours, he’d carried the weight of knowing there was nothing he could do except endure it and try to de-escalate

A shot. Yelling. The door opens and the hostages storm out. Carisi too at last