Hatchetfield Stories

Behind You!

My last 6 fics (7 if you count the one I've finished but haven't posted yet because I want to wait until Nightmare Time is out) all had happy endings. It was time to change that.

TRIGGER WARNINGS:
-Blood
-Injury
-Gun violence
-Death

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"Shit, Emma!" Paul rushed to her side as her hands hovered over her bleeding thigh.

"Fuuuuck..." Emma cried out as she carefully moved her leg.

"Shhh, Emma... Don't hurt yourself more." He placed his hand on her shoulder. "We should make a tourniquet, right? To stop the bleeding?"

Emma nodded. "Yeah..." She looked at the small puddle that had already formed under her leg. "This is bad," she mumbled.

"I know. Just- Just lay your head down, okay? Don't waste your energy."

Emma did as he said while trying to breathe through the blinding pain. She heard Paul stand up. "What are you doing?"

"This is a military helicopter. I'll see if I can find a first aid kit somewhere."

Emma nodded, closing her eyes and trying to steady her ragged breathing.

When Paul came back a minute later, the red puddle she was laying in already seemed too big for someone her size.

"Okay, Emma. I found a first aid kit, but besides some disinfectant, there's not a lot that will help with such a severe injury."

Emma nodded, sitting up and carefully moving backward so she could sit against the helicopter. She bit her lip to keep herself from screaming.

"Emma, I have to pull it out. Bite down on this, okay?" He handed her a rolled-up cloth from the box. Emma forced it between her teeth. "On three, okay?"

"Okay," Emma mumbled, her words muffled by the fabric. "Just get it over with."

"Try to stay quiet," Paul said as he put his hand too close to the injury for her liking, and his other hand closed around the pipe. "One... Two... Three!"

Emma squeezed her eyes shut as he pulled the pipe out, the screws in the pipe ripping her flesh open even more. Her screams were muffled, and she felt like she couldn't breathe as the pain washed over her entire body. Paul was talking to her, hushing her, but she couldn't hear anything over the ringing in her ears. Her head fell back against the side of the helicopter.

Paul cupped her cheek, and her eyes shot open. He smiled at her as she tried to blink the blurry spots in her vision away. He removed the improvised gag, and she gasped for air. She stared into his blue eyes as she whimpered softly.

"Paul..." she cried, her voice shaking.

"Shh, Emma... It's okay. You're doing great."

"It hurts..." She was shaking, and cursed herself for being so vulnerable in front of a man she just met.

Paul gently stroked her cheek with his thumb as the pain slowly became more bearable.

"I'm going to clean it, okay? We don't want it to get infected."

Emma nodded as Paul unscrewed the lid of the bottle. She rested her head against the cold metal of the helicopter as she desperately tried to keep her eyes open. "Paul... If I don't make it, just-"

"Hey, don't say that. Focus on my voice, okay?"

Emma nodded again, wincing at the sting of the alcohol on her flesh. Paul was telling some random story about something that happened at his office a few months ago, and Emma focused on his words and the sound of his voice as she saw Paul rip some fabric from his suit.

"I'm making a tourniquet, okay? Just keep breathing."

He wrapped the white fabric around her leg, and it immediately was soaked in red. He grabbed the rebar that had been in her leg only minutes ago, and tied it to her leg.

Emma bit her lip hard enough for it to start bleeding as he slowly twisted the pipe to tighten the tourniquet.

She gasped as she saw someone approach the wreckage. "Paul..." she mumbled sitting up.

"Shhh..." he hushed, gently pushing her back down. "I'm almost done."

"Paul, no... Behind y-" Her words turned into a scream as Paul tightened the tourniquet once more.

"Shhh, Emma... Just stay quiet, okay? We don't want them to find us."

The man behind Paul reached for his gun, and Emma's eyes widened as he aimed.

"No, Paul! Behind you!"

BANG!

Paul gasped in pain and surprise as the bullet hit his back, before falling foreward.

Emma's vision went black for only a few seconds when Paul fell onto her injured leg, but when she opened her eyes, the man towered above her.

He stroked her cheek, and Emma cringed, moving her head to the side. The man chuckled, inspecting the stains on his fingertips. "Blood isn't supposed to be red. But don't worry, I can fix it for you. Blue is a much nicer color."

She didn't even have the time to scream before the trigger was pulled again, and blood seeped from the hole in her forehead.