Leaving would be good

Dominick slumped to the floor, breathing in harsh bursts.

"Dommie!" Mag's voice was strained and far away. "Dommie, run, I can't do this for long!"

Instead, he pulled his hands around his legs, cringing as the metal cuffs dug into his wrists. Crawling forward, he took the gun from the writhing form on the floor and stood slowly. He pointed it at the cop for a moment. "I didn't-..." His abused throat closed up on him for a moment. "I didn't kill my brother. If you'd let me talk, I'd have told you..."

"DOMMIE RUN NOW! PLEASE!" He tied his coverall back around his waist, shoved the gun under the left side, and stumbled his way out of the apartment building.