Prince Caspian -Jung Yoonoh NCT

56. Blood

We set off for our flight back to Korea in the morning.

The Uber comes well in time, and I cuddle up next to him, dozing against his chest. It will take another two hours to the nearest airport, from where we are taking a connecting flight back to Korea. I feel sleepy and contented, and the sedan is very comfortable. Every now and then, he kisses the top of my head.

I am not sure how it happened.

One minute, I am dozing, my head nodding off on Jae's chest, and the next, there is a screeching of brakes, a deafening explosion, a jolt of pain, and the sound of glass shattering, and then, the world spins out of control.

It happens in a split second, or so it seems.

When I come to, the first thing I hear is a loud thundering sound.

It is raining. Heavily.

An accident.

There has been an accident, I think.

I stare at the windscreen. The glass is cracked.

Outside the cracked glass of the windshield, the rain lashes from the sky, spreading a blanket of white across the red tinged spider web. Red. Blood. At the same moment I realise it is blood, I see the driver. He is slumped against his seat, his head dipped down. He is not moving.

I look down at myself.

I am still strapped to my seat. My head hurts. I touch it. When I pull my hand away there is blood smeared on my fingertips. Jae. Where is Jae? Someone is moaning. Jae. Jae. I look around at the dark interior of the car wondering where he is. I see him. He is slumped away from me, his body held up by the safety belt. His head is lolling against the door.

"Jae. Jae." My voice is a harsh, ragged sob. I tug at my safety belt, pull the clasp with bloody fingers, and then I am free. I feel a wave of dizziness, and strain against it, fighting to stay conscious.

Feeling along the door, I grab hold of the latch, but it won't budge. Then I realize the obvious, something my cloudy mind hasn't registered at first. The car is crushed to half of its original size. But, someone is opening the door. Hands are reaching in and pulling me out of the car. Jae. I croak. Jae. He's hurt. Help him. Please, help him. Someone asks in Chinese if I am all right. I shake my head yes. Jae, I croak, Jae's hurt.

I am outside. They are lifting Jae out carefully. There is so much blood. I stumble to him, pushing away the hands that try to hold me back. Jae, I whisper. Jae, I'm here. I almost slip in the wetness of the blood, and there he is, stretched out in an awkward heap on the tarred road. There is another crumpled heap next to him. The driver. Blood. So much blood.

Jae is alive. Thank God. Oh, thank God. I can hear his soft whimpers as he struggles to breathe.

"Jae." I am wailing. "Jae. Jae."

"Yiseul," he whispers, and my heart turns cold with fear.

My hands are trying to staunch the blood. There is so much blood.

"Jae. Jae." Keep him awake. I have to keep him awake.

"Yiseu - " he says faintly, and he coughs, blood flecking his lips.

"Sshh."  I shake my head, the tears streaming down my face. There is so much blood.

Someone has his hoodie unzipped, and is pushing aside his T-shirt. I almost shut my eyes at the sight of his body, that skin that I have kissed and touched, every inch, spattered with blood, blood, blood.

"He needs an ambulance," I moan, " He needs an ambulance." 

"Yiseul..." Jae is trying to speak, in spite of the blood bubbling at his lips.

"He’s got a punctured lung. He’s probably bleeding internally. Press on this." Someone has guided my hand to a pad of torn-up T-shirt pressed against his thigh, from where blood is pumping frighteningly fast.

"What can we do?" I am trying not to cry.

"For the moment? Try to stop him bleeding out. If that artery keeps going like that, he’s dead no matter what. Press harder, it’s still bleeding. I’ll try a tournique but..." It sounds like a doctor speaking, a woman speaking in English. Dully, I wonder how she knew I wasn't Chinese.

I push the hair back from his face. There is blood on his cheekbone and on his brow.

"Yiseul," Jae says. He licks his lips. His eyes are fixed on mine, like there is something he is trying to tell me. I squeeze his hand, trying to hold it together. His voice is so faint it is hard to work out what he is trying to say.

"What?" He has closed his eyes. His hand in mine is relaxing.

"He’s dying," I hear someone say. "No. No. No." I hear the hysteria rising in my own voice. "Where's the ambulance?" I don’t let go of the pad on his thigh, even though the woman who seems to be a doctor is already pressing it down firmly.

Jae lies very still. "Jae?" I say, suddenly panicked. "Jae, stay with me."

His thigh is split open like a peeled fruit, and his blood-stained chest and belly are bare to the cold air. I want to touch him, to kiss him, to tell him everything is okay. But I can't. Because it is a lie. I grit my teeth and press harder on the pad on his thigh, my hand shaking next to the doctor's steady one, willing the blood to stop pooling and pooling.

"I’m…sorry… ," he says, very faint, so faint that I think I have misheard.

"What?" I put my head closer, trying to hear.

"I’m sorry…" His hand squeezes mine, and then, he reaches up, his arm trembling with the effort, and touches my cheek. His breath rattles in his throat, and a thin trickle of blood comes from the corner of his mouth. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying not to cry.

"Sshh," I manage.

A tear drips off my nose onto his chest, and he reaches up again and tries to wipe it away, but his arm is too weak and he lets it fall back. "Don’t…cry…"

"Oh, Jae." It is all I can manage, a gulping exhortation that tries to say everything I can't. Jae, don’t die, please don’t die.

"Love...you...Yiseul… always... ," he says softly, and he closes his eyes.