Hatchetfield Stories

On Three

I hate that I broke my streak of posting something every two days but Webby (my cat) went missing, she's back and okay but it still freaked me out a lot lmao (and also I'm hyperfixating on Minecraft again)

And my excuse for writing 4 helicopter crash fics in a row is that I tried to write something else but writing them is just therapeutic for some reason

TRIGGER WARNINGS:
-Injury
-Cauterizing wounds

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Emma grunted as she dragged herself to where Paul was looking for her. Paul's eyes widened when he spotted her.

"Emma! Your leg!"

He rushed toward her, his hand brushing over her shoulder as if he was afraid to touch her but still wanted to bring some comfort, his other hand hovering over her bleeding thigh.

In the dark, Emma couldn't really assess the severity of the injury, but judging by the pain alone, it was bad. Real fucking bad.

She tried to speak, but a string of curse words Ted would probably have been proud of tumbled from her lips as another wave of agony threatened to pull her under.

"Shhh, Em..." Paul whispered, rubbing her back. "Don't try to move, okay? You're making it worse."

"Fuuuck..."

"Emma, we have to get out of here." He winced at her pained scream as he tried to get his arm under her legs so he could carry her. "I know, Em. I'm sorry."

Emma's body shook from pain and fear as he braced himself to stand and walked down the streets of Hatchetfield.

It took a while for her to realize he was taking her to his house, but after struggling to unlock his front door with her in his arms, he put her down on his couch and ran upstairs to get a first aid kit.

Emma sat there for a moment, feeling deja vu from when she scraped her arm on a branch in Guatemala and had to stitch it up herself. She traced her finger along the scar it had left. At least she wasn't alone now.

"It's not much," Paul said, coming back into the room with a small first aid kit in his hand. "But there might be something in here that'll help us fix up your leg. Probably... Maybe."

Emma opened the box, quickly looking through its contents, but apart from a small bottle of disinfectant and some bandages, there wasn't much that would help them.

Makes sense, because an injury this severe should probably be fixed in a hospital and not by two people who didn't know what they were doing.

But they didn't have much of a choice.

"Paul, heat up the fireplace, and grab a knife from the kitchen."

Paul's eyes went wide. "What?"

"You're going to have to cauterize the wounds."

Paul stared at her for a moment, before standing up. "Okay... Okay." He lit a fire and left the room to get a knife, 'okay's still tumbling from his lips.

"Okay, Paul. You're going to have to pull the pipe out, rinse the wounds with some water, because I don't think this disinfectant is enough and you really need some to clean the knife, and then cauterize it, okay? Work fast but careful, right now it doesn't matter how good it will heal, getting the bleeding to stop is our priority. Got it?"

"O-Okay." He nodded, clearly uncomfortable but willing to do anything to help her. "Just close your eyes, okay? I'll be as fast as I can." He gave her hand a squeeze, before pulling his hand back, and putting it too close to the injury for it to be comfortable. With his other hand, he grabbed the pipe, and Emma squeezed her eyes shut as he tried to pull the metal from the wound.

She was holding her breath as he worked, letting out a few pathetic pained whimpers as the metal came loose and Paul tossed it aside, rinsing the wounds as she tried to steady her breathing, before moving to grab the knife he'd put in the fire. He stared at the glowing blade for a moment.

"On three, okay?" Emma gave a stiff nod, clenching her fists, trying to mentally prepare herself for the pain. She barely noticed Paul counting.

"Three."

Emma screamed.

Sure, pulling the pipe free hadn't been pleasant either, but that had been a matter of seconds, but now the burning just didn't seem to end, even as he put the knife back into the fire to heat it up again so he could do the other side of her leg.

Paul cupped her cheek as he waited for the knife to start glowing, his bloody hand staining her face, but she leaned into his touch, whimpering softly, her eyes still squeezed shut.

He frowned as he grabbed the knife again, not wanting to hurt her more but wanting to get it over with. He mumbled an apology, before pressing the hot knife against the inside of her thigh over and over again, until the bleeding stopped.

Grabbing the half-empty water bottle he'd used to rinse the wounds, he poured the remaining water over the burns, hoping it would relieve some of the pain, but judging by her scrunched-up face, it didn't do much. He quickly wrapped her leg, making sure the bandage was tight, but not tight enough to cut off the circulation.

He grabbed another water bottle and pulled her upright, her body frighteningly limp as she trembled in his grip, barely conscious anymore. "Come on, Em, drink some water."

Emma gave a small nod, her jaw unclenching to allow him to bring the bottle to her lips. She swallowed with great effort, some water dribbling down her chin.

"I'm going to place a pill in your mouth now," Paul said. "It's just some paracetamol, but it's probably better than nothing. It might help with the pain a bit."

Emma saw the blurry outline of Paul come closer and she gagged at the taste as he placed the pill on her tongue, before taking another sip of the water.

By the time she'd finished half of the water, she couldn't keep her eyes open anymore, allowing them to slip closed as her body slumped down into Paul's arms.

"Get some sleep," Paul said, but his voice sounded far away. "Give your body some rest. I'll be here when you wake up."