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xxvii. We've Been Here Before
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To say the world stilled would be an understatement. Actually, it would be too weak of a statement. There was no sound but heavy breathing and the wounded girl's pained whimpering, birds whistling in the distance and soft wind swaying the bright greenery all around them, and it scraped against the outside of the truck.
Blair didn't understand how John B found it in him to move. Really, she didn't know what kind of metaphysical courage possessed him to lunge forward and tear the bandana from his neck, placing it against her wound with shaky hands. Blair didn't understand. Perhaps that was because she was sitting in between them, looking at the blood that was gaining surface on her sister's denim jeans, her lips quivering and breath caught in her chest. Was that what a heart attack felt like? She was immobile, unable to move no matter how much she pushed her muscles to. She felt so unbelievable helpless and it ate her up from the inside of her bones.
Thankfully, the boy was in better shape. "I need you to push down, okay?" he told the girl with a certain uneasiness in his voice. She swallowed harshly and gasped as he pressed the cloth over the gunshot wound and placed her own hands over it. "Look, this is gonna hurt, but I need you to push down," his voice shook when she gasped, "I'm sorry," he apologized repeatedly. "I know it hurts, I know. We've gotta stop the bleeding."
His voice faded to a buzz in Blair's head as she caught sight of his fingertips, stained the brightest of reds. He was hunched over her, hovering over her sister, but she felt as though she was getting asphyxiated by the air surrounding her. The shock and trauma of the past few days had her in a chokehold and she could not breathe properly, so much she almost started hyperventilating. She didn't feel her hand move to press over her own chest, finding her heartbeat erratic and dangerously unbalance, her own hand stained in blood. Except she didn't know if it was hers . . . or her sister's.
John B had called for her about seven times before she finally registered what he was saying. "Blair? Blair! Blair, are you okay?" His voice was getting less fuzzy by the second. She gasped back to reality and nodded, unable to speak. "Blair, I need you to help me, okay? You've gotta stay calm. I'm gonna hold this down on the wound, you hold Sarah's shirt up," he said.
Blair did as he told her to, closing her eyes as Sarah whimpered breathlessly. "I'm sorry," she nearly cried, sniffling. Her hands were fully stained in blood by then for she had grazed her sister's wound and found it all too red for her liking. She was bleeding more than she should, Blair was scared the bullet had hit an something major. Her boyfriend told her to lean back and she did painfully. "Stay still, S," Blair forced a reassuring smile. "We've got you."
