Life's Not Fair

Chapter TwentyEight

Sha’riah

It seemed as if the whole froze over.

Tanisha was busy screaming while Trey and Calvin remained frozen. Blood oozed from his injured body and his eyelids fluttered as he clutched the bullet wound. His groans of pain echoed in my ears, but I just couldn’t move. The sight was horrendous.

I could only glare back at Dylan, who had finally collapsed by the door of the warehouse, fully unconscious with the smoking gun in his hand.

The only one who hadn’t reacted was Marcus. I noticed the prominent vein of his temple throbbing relentlessly; a clear sign of his suppressed anger. Suddenly he turned to Trey.

“Gimme your hoody.”

Trey watched him with curious eyes, but obeyed regardless and quickly pulled his hoody off. Marcus grabbed it and folded the item before crouching down and wrapping it around Raphael’s leg. He tied a knot using the sleeves of the hoody and applied pressure to the wound.

“We need to get him to a hospital.”

Tanisha gulped audibly. “But what about him?” she muttered, pointing at Dylan’s lifeless body a few feet away.

“Calvin, Trey, help me pick him up,” Marcus ordered, ignoring Tanisha’s question completely.

The other two boys nodded obediently and bent down to haul Raphael’s body inside the car.

“Marcus...” I whispered.

“Keep him in the back. Trey, hold the wound just in case,” he instructed the others.

I watched him in fear and confusion. He seemed oddly calm considering. “But Dylan’s still...”

“I don’t give a fuck about him!” Marcus snapped. “I’m more interested in getting my boy to a hospital. That prick can die for all I care,” he snarled, already strapping Ramz in.

“Come we need to bounce,” Trey warned.

I noticed Raphael was panting heavily, his face strained in anguish with gritted teeth and his eyes firmly shut. He was muttering something but no-one could make out his distorted speech.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Tanisha soothed, leaning over him to check his breathing.

My body was petrified; I had no idea what to do in this kind of situation. The crimson blood staining the pavement and everyone’s hands was beginning to make me feel sick. I retched at the sight and turned away briefly.

“This ain’t gonna work,” Calvin muttered. “There’s 6 of us and only 5 seats.”

A strangled groan caused us to pause. Ramz was in even more agony at this point. His head thrashed about and Trey pressed his hand firmer on the wounded leg. Clotted blood was gushing from the wound, already staining the interior of the car and getting all over Trey’s clothes.

“We’re squashing up,” Marcus finalised with determination.

“But who’s driving?” Tanisha questioned.

“I...I can d-drive,” Ramz gurgled from the back with one opened eye.

Marcus glared at him with a tense jaw. “Nah. Sit back and hold tight. We’re gonna sort you out, Biggz.”

“I’ll drive,” Calvin said.

We all watched him in uncertainty. He was our age and everyone knew that it would be impossible to undergo driving lessons at fifteen.

“Can you?” I asked.

He nodded. “My uncle taught me how to drive his Corsa. I’m a bit rusty though.”