Hatchetfield Stories

You'll Hurt Me

Not my best work but I don't have a lot of inspiration lately

TRIGGER WARNINGS:
-Blood
-Injury
-Death

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The pain that radiated from Emma's leg was enough to make her wish she'd pass out. Paul was sitting next to her, talking to her, though she couldn't focus on his words. She let out a pained groan.

"Shhh, Emma, be quiet, okay? We don't want them to find us."

Emma nodded, blood dribbled down her chin. Paul wiped it away with his sleeve.

Paul lifted Emma into his arms without warning, and she screamed as an unbearable pain shot up her leg. Paul put her down in the wreckage of the helicopter, so they wouldn't be seen by anyone on the streets.

"Emma, I'm going to take a look at your leg, okay?"

"No!" Emma shouted. "You're not a doctor! You'll only make it worse!"

"Emma, we don't have a choice. We can't get you to a hospital and if we don't stop the bleeding you'll bleed out."

"No, Paul, I'm fine! Well, not really, but I don't want you to make it worse!"

Paul grabbed her shoulders so she looked at him. "Emma, listen to me. Losing your leg is better than dying, right? I have no idea what to do, but I do know that losing much more blood than you already have is not healthy."

She looked at her leg. He was right. A small puddle of blood had already formed under her leg, and more blood was streaming from the wounds in her thigh.

"I'll pull it out and I'll see if there's anything I can use to clean the wound, seeing this is a military helicopter I could probably find something. After that, I'll make a tourniquet, okay?"

"No!" Emma pulled her leg closer in an attempt to protect the injured limb, screaming at the pain that came with moving it. "You'll hurt me," she said, her voice breaking.

Paul sighed. "I know. I'll try to be as gentle as possible, okay?"

"Paul, please, no..."

"I'm sorry, Emma." He grabbed the pole and put his other hand just above the injury to keep her leg still, despite Emma's cries.

"No, Paul! It's going to hurt!"

"Yes, it's going to hurt, Em. Close your eyes, okay?" he said as he yanked the pole out of her leg.

Emma's entire body was filled with pain. She tried her best not to pass out as she screamed her throat raw and her vision was blurred by tears.

Paul cupped her cheek. "Shhh, be quiet. They'll find us. The worst part's over." He stood up to look for something to clean the wound and make a tourniquet with, leaving Emma crying on the ground.

"I found something!" he said, turning around to Emma, a bottle of rubbing alcohol in his hands.

Emma looked up at him. "I told you not to do it."

Paul took her hand in his after he put the bottle on the ground. "I'm sorry, Emma. I just want to make sure you don't die, okay? I don't want to be the only survivor."

"Oh, are you really that selfish? Saving me just so you won't be alone?"

"No... I care about you."

"Well, let me tell you something. You took the pipe out of my leg, which made it bleed even worse. If I don't get a blood transfusion in the next couple of minutes, I die."

"I'm sorry, I-"

"I told you you're not a doctor."

"Emma..."

"Hey, don't feel bad... It's okay. We wouldn't survive this anyway."

Paul squeezed her hand. "I'm so sorry."

Emma laid her head down, looking into Paul's eyes. "Survive. Please... Do it for me."

"I'll try..." Paul said, tears forming in his eyes.

Emma smiled at him, before closing her eyes, waiting until the pain faded away.

She didn't survive the apocalypse, and neither did Paul.