"Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod..." I stutter out, my mind unable to focus on the unmistakable blood pooling around him.
"For the love of God, Jess, calm down. Freaking out isn't going to make this any better. Keep him awake as long as possible and keep pressure on the wound. I have to go get some supplies. I think I saw a first aid kit somewhere...." Liz's voice fades out as she excuses herself.
How can she be so calm? Alix could be literally dying in my arms right now, and she's taking her sweet leisurely time to find the right bandages?
A moan escapes Alix's lips, thrusting me back into reality. Keep him alive, Jess.
"Hey, Alix." I say, leaning over him, my heart overflowing with relief when his blue eyes meet mine. He's in pain. That much I can tell. "Hang in there, okay? It's going to be okay."
"Don't...mock.....me." Alix says in response, but I can see how much agony it cost him to do so.
I let out a high pitched, nervous laugh. "Right—okay—um—uh—yeah." Jess Hollens, master of the English language.
"You keeping pressure on it?" I hear Liz's voice call from where she's kneeling, ten feet away, rummaging through the stack of supplies.
I let out a stream of profanities under my breath, and, without answering, tear off a piece of Alix's shirt. Pressing it against his wound, a hiss of pain from him cuts through my ears like a blade. I squeeze my eyes shut and press harder.
Now, I've seen a lot of movies. Like, a lot. And when you're sitting in a movie theater, staring up at screen as someone tends another person's injury from a bullet wound, the first thing that comes to mind is, Wow, I'd hate to be that person. The one thing that doesn't come to mind is, if that ever happens to me, I will totally be prepared. Well, at least, it didn't for me.
Don't get me wrong, I've made some pretty horrendous mistakes throughout my seventeen years of living. Like that one time where I decided it would be a great idea to ride my bike down a hill with my eyes closed. Or when I thought skateboards were the same thing as surfboards. Or maybe even the incident that happened in second grade—the thing that caused the flaming ravine separating Laila and I from being best friends like we were.
But those memories were in the past, and I need to focus on the present. And the dying guy in front of me.
The small piece of Alix's shirt is immediately soaked through, so I tear another piece off, trying to ignore the flash of bare skin that peeks out from beneath it. Seriously, what can Liz possibly be doing right now? Is she having a tea party? Going to a bar with a fake ID? What's taking her so long?
On cue, footsteps thunder towards me. "It's about time," I mutter.
"Yeah, well, it takes me forever when I have to sort through useless junk that someone grabbed." Liz retorts, glaring at me.
I don't respond, just look at the bloodied piece of shirt on Alix's wound, and then her.
"Stop....being such.....men and... fix...me." Alix forces out, causing us both to glance in his direction nervously.
"Tear off another piece of his shirt." Liz says, looking at me with a ferocity I was oh so familiar with now. I obey, my fingers shaking. I doubt it's from the cold.
I watch in awe as Liz pulls up the blood stained hem of his jeans upward, stopping at the middle thigh area. She takes the strip of clothing and wraps it around Alix's thigh, before tying it there. Tight. Her fingers are one-hundred times steadier than mine, so it's probably for the benefit of everyone that she is the one doing the dirty work.
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Subject #013 | ✓
Teen Fiction"I'm only going to ask you one more time." I say firmly. "Who are you and what do you want with me?" He frowns, and I tense, waiting for a blow, but none comes. I really need to shut my big mouth. "Apparently, I'm not nearly as famous as I thou...
