Hatchetfield Stories

Heat

I had some other (happier) fanfictions planned but writers block sucks so I wrote some whump to fight it (Also I couldn't sleep lol)

Also I'd like to thank Google and wikihow :)

TRIGGER WARNINGS:
-Blood
-Injury
-Cauterizing wounds

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"Okay. Emma, we have to get out of here," Paul said, looking around, before turning back to Emma.

"Fuck!" she shouted when she tried to move her leg. "Shit, Paul, I won't make it."

"Of course you will. My house is not far from here. I can take you there, and I'll figure out a way to stop the bleeding."

Emma nodded and cried out as Paul lifted her into his arms. She screamed as he jostled her to get a better grip.

"Shhh, it's okay. Be quiet, we have to make sure they don't find us," he said, anxiously looking around.

"Easy for you to say, you're not the one whose leg is impaled."

"And who didn't wear her seatbelts?"

Emma rolled her eyes, before closing them. "I'm tired."

Paul looked at her. "Stay awake, Em. It's the blood loss."

"I know that! I'm a biology student, remember?"

The rest of the walk to Paul's house was silent, and only after Paul had put Emma down on the couch in his living room, he spoke up again. "There's no way we can get help in time. I'll have to cauterize it." He closed the curtains so no one would see them.

Emma's face showed no emotion, though he could see the panic in her eyes. "I can take it."

Paul nodded, before taking out his phone. After a quick Google search, trying to lose as little time as possible, he walked to the kitchen and washed his hands. He grabbed a knife with a plastic handle and walked over to the fireplace. He lit the fire before sterilizing the blade of the knife, waiting for the fire to get a bit bigger.

"I'm going to take the pipe out now," Paul said, putting the knife down.

Emma sat up a bit straighter, crying out as Paul put his hand near the injury to keep her leg still. Paul tried to look at her facial expressions to see how much pain she was in, but he knew he had to do it anyway. He pulled the pipe out carefully but as fast as possible, wincing as Emma's screams echoed through the house.

He cupped her cheek with his bloody hand, staining her face, but she seemed to appreciate the comfort, leaning into his touch as she whimpered.

"Shhh, Emma, it's okay. The worst part's over." But it wasn't. The worst part was yet to come.

Paul stood up and walked to the kitchen to wash his hands again. After he was done, he grabbed the first aid kit from the bathroom. Emma didn't even make a sound as he carefully cleaned the wound, which concerned him.

He picked the knife back up and held the blade in the fire.

"Okay..." he mumbled. "Emma. This is going to hurt. A lot." With the hand that wasn't holding the knife, he grabbed a washcloth and rolled it up. He gave it to Emma. "Bite down on that, okay?"

Emma nodded, forcing the cloth between her teeth.

Paul took the knife out of the fire as soon as it started glowing. "Hold my hand, okay?" he asked, crouching down next to her. "I'll do the outside of your thigh first. I'm so sorry."

He pressed the hot blade of the knife onto the wound for just a second, wincing as he heard Emma's muffled scream. She clutched Paul's hand with both of hers, and Paul squeezed softly, trying to at least bring some comfort while she was in pain.

"I know, I'm sorry," Paul said as he continued to burn the wound shut.

After the bleeding had stopped, he put the knife down, cupping Emma's cheek. "You did great." He grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol and cleaned the cauterized wound, before heating the knife again. "We're halfway done."

Emma grunted in response. He sat down next to her and offered his hand again. She took it in both of hers, tears still streaming down her face. How could he do this to her? He was hurting her, while it was unlikely she would survive this anyway. But he held onto that little hope. They would make it out. They had to.

After giving Emma a quick warning, he started to cauterize the wound on the inside f her thigh. He breathed a sigh of relief when he finally felt her grip on his hand loosen as she slipped into unconsciousness.

He continued to work in silence, pressing the knife on the wound for only a second so the healthy skin wouldn't get damaged. Repeat. After he had cleaned the second wound, he let himself look at Emma. Her chest rose and fell slowly. She was breathing.

Deep down he knew the chance of them surviving was slim.

But right now they were okay.