contempt; miw short stories

two: DID SHE MAKE IT TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM?

TW: mentions of violence, rape, blood

 "Please, somebody help me!" she cried, her voice hoarse, curled up in a fetal position in the alleyway that she was disposed of.

Not a single person could hear her sobbing or see her mascara and eyeliner running down her pale face as she bled out. If they did hear her they didn't care enough to help her. She was in too much pain and too dizzy to move independently as she was bleeding out from her left side. She yelled as loud as she could and that wasn't very loud at this point. The scene was quite gruesome, a girl laying in a pool of her own blood with a deep slash in her abdomen. Her vision was becoming blurry and her hearing seemed like it was muffled as if she was wearing a pair of bulky, noise-canceling, headphones. She clutched a bunched-up section of her t-shirt pressed firmly against her bloody wound. She had no idea what else to do except to continue hopelessly crying for help.

"Is someone back there?" A male voice called.

"Somebody, please..." The girl cried again now losing her voice, as well as more fluids.

The male figure came closer and crouched down next to her, a phone pressed to the man's ear. He wondered what kind of monster would destroy such a beautiful girl. She couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but she could tell he was worried, definitely something she didn't expect from a stranger. Her head was spinning as the man's large hand came in contact with her forehead. The man gently caressed her head with his tattooed hands, in an odd attempt to keep her conscious and calm since the man really didn't know what to do in this type of situation.

"Please, hurry!" The man desperately begged into his iPhone, followed by muted gibberish coming from the other end of the call.

The kind stranger kept the girl company as they waited for an ambulance to come for her, which he hoped was soon. He searched for the girl's wallet, in an attempt to find an ID of some kind. He was successful in his search. He found a small black wallet with her driver's license in it.

Erin R. Harris, date of birth: October 29th, 1992.

The girl, who the man now knew as Erin, had gone unconscious due to losing such an excessive amount of blood. Her hand that was holding her wound had fallen to the cold blacktop beneath the two of them. This mystery man immediately pressed the section of her bunched-up t-shirt against the waterfall of blood, hoping that it would keep her from losing too much more. Some of Erin's blood stained the man's inked hands. Her body was limp and the man positioned her so her head rested on one of his thighs as he knelt next to her.

Minutes later, almost feeling like hours, the sounds of sirens grew louder and the lights became brighter as the ambulance backed halfway into the alley. Two paramedics emerged from the back doors of the vehicle with a red and black gurney. They lowered it down to the ground as much as they could, to avoid moving this unfortunate girl too much. The two paramedics gently lifted the fragile body off of the blacktop and onto the stiff mattress of the gurney and secured her to it. They raised the legs of the gurney and loaded Erin into the ambulance. They invited her savior to join them in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. Normally, only immediate family was allowed but the paramedics assumed that he might know something about Erin.

The man took a seat once the doors were closed and the vehicle began to move. There were three more paramedics in the vehicle, adding up to a total of five of them. One asked the man questions while the other four hooked Erin up to IVs and such.

"Okay, sir, what's your name?" The young woman with a clipboard asked him.

"Chris Cerulli," he answered, growing a bit anxious.