Speak To a Girl

Chapter 6

Faith POV: 

The most brutal cold is eating me alive, as EMT's funnel out of an ambulance. I hold him tightly, praying that he'll suddenly move. I can't bring myself to look down at him again, because I'll fall to pieces once more. He's pale, and coated in blood. His eyes are still open, staring forward, while his mouth hangs open slightly. Streaks of blood run down across his forehead, nose, and cheeks. I try my best to ignore the pieces of his skull that have been exposed and face up toward me. 

I continue to stroke the side of his head, now subconsciously to try and keep myself sane. I accidentally go too far toward the top of his head, my fingers running along a piece of his skull. I jerk my hand up quickly, before howling. I grip onto his arm with both hands and shut my eyes tightly, wanting this nightmare to end. 

An EMT knocks on the window, before opening the door, a bright light shining and blinding me. He turns off his flashlight, and takes a deep breath, trying to address the situation. 

"Ma'm, my name is John, and we're going to get you both taken care of, okay?" He says softly, seeming to notice my state of shock. I nod, before blinking quickly. He steps back from the truck and shouts to the other EMT's, "I'm going to need a stretcher and a blanket." They rush over toward him with everything he requested. I sit still, as they try to slip a stretcher under Tim. John goes to lift him up from his shoulders, when blood begins to drip down onto my lap. 

My breath is taken away as I see what looks like red chunks falling. My mind races, as a stark realization hits me. John sees it and immediately puts Tim back down. The other EMT's look horrified, one diving away and beginning to heave, before throwing up. John catches his breath, before walking a few feet away and speaking into his radio. 

"I'm going to need a psychologist immediately... on site..." He releases, seeming to be struggling to breathe. "No, right now. It can't wait... Trauma... She's..." He argues with the people on the other line. "This girl is sitting in a truck under her boyfriends lifeless body covered in his blood and... matter... Extreme mental psychological trauma... Yes, I mean brain matter..." He whispers sternly into the radio, thinking that I can't hear. He walks back to the truck, and kneels down by my side. 

"I'll be okay..." I let out, feeling numb. He stares at me, before looking at Tim. "I can take it... Just please, get him help..." I begin to break down again, stroking Tim's hair again. John bites his lip, before looking at the EMT on the other side. He takes a few deep breaths, before lifting Tim up again. They quickly slide the stretcher under him, and slide him out of the truck. I refuse to look down at my lap, and I can tell by John's expression that I don't want to. 

"Stay still." John orders, trying to find a way to clear my lap of whatever is left. He talks quietly to another EMT, before returning to my side. "Can you stand up on your own?" He asks. I nod, before he helps me out of the car. I refuse to look down... "Alright, slowly now." John says, as I stand onto my feet. I feel my knees shake as I take a few steps. I stop abruptly, as I feel it running down my legs. John places his hand on my back, as I tremble, feeling the most awful, gut wrenching feeling I've ever felt in my life. He slowly begins to push me to walk, leading me to another ambulance. 

At the hospital, a woman in business clothing talks to me, trying to see what's going on in my mind right now. I honestly don't know... I don't know what to do, and I don't know what to feel. I'm scared, and that's all I know for sure right now. 

Mack and Kim walk in, Mack looking at me with a sense of horror in his eyes. Kim hugs me lightly, making sure not to touch the blood that I'm coated in. He stares, while Kim talks to the shrink, asking her some questions, while Mack and I share a locked gaze. He nods slowly, before looking down at his feet. Kim presses her hand against my back, snapping me out of it. 

"You ready to go get cleaned up?" She asks softly. I don't nod, or shake my head... I just stand slowly. She leads me down the hall to a rest room, locking the door behind us, before digging into her bag and pulling out a change of clothes. I look at a mirror, surprising myself with just how much blood is on me. 

There's a bit splattered across my face, and some smudged across my cheek. My grey t-shirt is soaked from my chest down, my blue denim shorts now maroon. My legs are blood stained, points where it's thicker than others. My hands are more stained than any other part of me... 

Kim notices my stare in the mirror, placing her hand on my shoulder. I slowly lift up my shirt, slipping it off. I look back at the mirror, before covering my mouth. The blood stained through, soaking the bottom half of my white cotton bra, and staining my stomach. Kim shuts her eyes and tries to maintain her composure. She helps me slip off my shorts, revealing much the same. I hug myself tightly, as she starts the shower. My legs shake as I take off my underwear and take one last look in the mirror before getting in the shower. 

"I'll give you a few minutes. Call me if you need me." Kim says, as I fight the urge to scream at the sight of the blood swirling around the drain. I turn to face the shower head, and watch it leave my skin. My hands are still red though, so I scrub them with a bar of soap. After a few minutes of rubbing the soap against them, the blood is still stuck to them. I put down the soap and begin to cry, as I try to rub it off with my bare hands. My hands still are colored with his blood. I scratch at my skin, as I hyperventilate, beginning to see some of the blood come off. 

After twenty minutes, Kim walks back in, finding me sitting under the shower head on the floor. She takes a deep breath, before sighing. 

"I can't get it all off..." I let out quietly, my voice breaking. She nods slowly, turning off the shower head and draping a towel over my shoulders. She helps me out of the shower, before throwing an oversized gray sweatshirt over my head, and a pair of baggy black sweatpants, along with a cheap pair of pink flip-flops. She brushes out my hair, before french braiding it. She collects everything, and we walk through the hospital.

We stop at a room with Mack sitting beside the bed, sitting beside another woman. It hits me quickly that the woman is Tim's mom. She looks at me as Kim walks me in, and sits me down. She watches me, before a small smile breaking onto her face. 

"How are you holding up, honey?" She asks, although I doubt she wants to know the truth. I fight the urge to have a complete moment of insanity, and scream about how I just spent the last hour washing the blood of the boy I love off of every square inch of me. 

"I'm holding up." I lie, watching her detect the lie. Mack takes a deep breath, trying not to lock eyes with me.

"Tim is--" He starts to speak. I abruptly place my hands so they're hovering over my ears, feeling my heart pound. 

"Don't..." I warn, shutting my eyes tightly. Mack stops speaking, sinking back in his chair, as Kim rubs my back. I cautiously lower my hands, not ready to hear what I know is going to come my way.