The Armor (Prince Harry fanfic #1)

Chapter Thirty-Three

There was always that moment, like a few seconds that felt forever, where everyone stopped, not knowing what to do. Did you run away? Did you fight? You were always frozen. Your mind worked as fast as it could to figure out the right answer. Your body wanted to move, whether toward or from, but it waited. Maybe it was how you were raised or how you were made that made you go your way. But there was always the pause. There wasn't that moment of who was going to help. There was nothing wrong about how you did it: running away or fighting. It was how we survived.

So, when no one moved, it was expected. What were you supposed to do? How were you supposed to act? You were busy assessing the situation. You were busy trying to figure out the future. You were trying to survive.

Lucy, like them, paused, but unlike the men, she didn't freeze. Her eyes found Harry, whom didn't fully process the situation. The pain didn't register with him, adrenaline undoubtedly pumping through his body, but his eyes gave him away. Something happened to him, he knew, but he didn't feel. He didn't feel the blade still within his body, and he certainly didn't feel a burning sensation from the wound.

She desperately wanted to tell him not to look down, but she bit her tongue. Now, he watched her, not fully realizing yet, and he couldn't panic yet. If she said, he would look down, sensing his own life in danger. If he stayed with her, eyes on eyes, he wouldn't panic. Panic killed. She didn't want him to be the next victim.

Her eyes didn't let him escape.

Both of them men looked back and forth, taking in the pale faces that didn't belong here. Of course the two teachers were recognized, but now it was different. Pain shone on both faces of the men, because they saw the future clearly. Whatever dispute the men had was gone. They stood in shock and fear. There was a fight, and one of them stabbed Prince Harry, the Prince of Wales. They would surely go down, and they would be taken down the military.

Perhaps was the day Harry would see what Lucy knew about fighting, what she learned and how easily she took down people. Of course she learned to defend herself after the mass shooting. Today wasn't the day, and not in the night light.

The men both took a few steps back before breaking into a sprint, and they disappeared into the shadows. Harry was left in the hands of Lucy.

It took two steps from Lucy to get over to Harry. Her hands gripped her face, forcing his face forward, so close that their noses touched. She didn't let him look down. His breath was ragged, trying to fight the pain that was already starting. He shook. His eyes started to brim with tears. Whether he knew it or not, with a knife being stuck in his body, his body was feeling the pain.

"Breathe," Lucy commanded.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but only a moan of pain came out.

"Breathe. Stay awake." Her commands were like Zeus speaking. "Look at me, Harry, now."

His legs buckled, and he fell down, his legs crumpling. His back hit a slum before sliding down into the dirt. Eyes focusing upon her before they blurred with water. He reached for the painful wound, wanting to feel. No longer was Harry in control of his own body. He went into self-saving mode, whatever his body needed to do to live.

"Breathe." Lucy bent down beside him, pushing his hands back from the wound. He fought against her, but Lucy won now. She was stronger to his weaking self. Lucy swore, taking in the bleeding wound, but she knew she needed more light. She needed to get him somewhere better.

"Lucy," Harry breathed, fighting to get up. His body told him to go, but his lack of strength left him on the ground. At least he recognized her. "Lucy." Grimacing, he tried to reach for the pain again, but he needed to keep the knife in now. It was the only thing that clogged the bleeding; however, there was a chance it was a dirty blade. "Lucy, what...." He couldn't finished. Moans escaped his body.

"Relax."

"The pain--"

"I know." Lucy touched his wound gently, with quick fingers. "Relax," she hissed. Even with squinting, there was too much blood to see anything in far too little light. "Harry, I need you do something for me."

"What?" He wasn't sure if he could.

"I need you to put your hands here and keep them here." She gripped his hands and moved them over to the wound, positioning them how she wanted them, the pressure and all. "I need to go find help."

"You're leaving?" he almost yelled. Fear sprung up in him, but this happened in all dying people. No one wanted to die alone.

Lucy knew this. She had seen this before. Lucy nodded, pressing her hands to the wound too. "Okay." She breathed, and then she took in much air.

The ringing of Lucy's voice hurt Harry's ears for a second, going long and strong. She called for help, or that was at least what he thought she screamed. Though pain still radiated from within him, burning from one spot, Harry mostly felt the blood that graced his hands. Blood came out, hot and sticky, and wanted to lift his hands to believe it. Lucy forced his hands down.

Her eyes found him again, meeting him. "Harry, stay awake."

He groaned, trying to say something. His eyelids started to droop, slowly fading away. His hands were already starting to go slack under her weight. She pressed harder, still feeling the blood pour out.

"Shit!" Lucy turned back to the night sky and screamed, telling everyone to come, whomever was there. She rumbled and grumbled, pushing into his stomach, but still there was blood. The yelling continued, and she almost to start like a man. Meaning to have a higher-pitched voice, she screamed a little, calling for help.

By now, they heard her voice, but still no one came.