36
REPEAT AFTER ME: A STAB WOUND IS NOT A GRAZE
Hazel
“Flynn!”I crash down onto my knees beside Flynn, my hands flitting over the growing dark stain on his hoodie. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
I pull the sodden material up, dread dragging at my bones when I see how deep the knife cut. If we get out of this, Flynn and I are going to have a serious talk about what constitutes agraze.
Blood is still seeping out of the gash in his side and I tug my sweater off, bundling the material up against the wound to stem the bleeding. His shoulder is bleeding too but the wound from the scalpel doesn’t look too deep.
Derek must have taken my phone, so I leave Flynn for two seconds and search Wright’s pockets. I don’t know Lachlan’s number, but Flynn left his phone behind so I call that, hoping like hell Lachlan picks up.
The ring tone echoes through the room and I try not to think about the fact there are two dead bodies on either side of me. Or that Wright is unconscious with god knows what in her system.
Finally, he picks up.
“Lachlan?”
“Hazel? What is it?”
“Flynn’s been stabbed. He’s unconscious. I’m trying to stop the bleeding but I… I don’t know how much blood he’s already lost.”
“Where are you?”
“The clinic.”
“Is he still bleeding?”
I take my hand off my sweater to find it covered in crimson blood, my sweater almost saturated. My voice shakes. “Yes.”
“Okay, you need to close the wound.”
“What?”
A car engine rumbles through the phone. “I’m on my way, Hazel, but it can’t wait. I’m going to talk you through it, okay?”
No. Not okay. Very much not okay.
“Hazel, breathe. He’s going to be fine.”
“I killed the senator,” I blurt out because my mind is fracturing, panic trembling through my body.
“Good,” Lachlan says. “Now can you do this?”
I swallow shards of glass and focus on Lachlan’s steady voice. “Yes.”
“I need you to find a needle and thread. There are probably some out in the triage area.”
I glance up at Flynn’s face, his already pale skin looking ashen. “I don’t want to leave him.”
“Hazel. Needle and thread and antiseptic. Go find them.”
I close my eyes and snatch up the phone. I force myself to standing, then I step over Derek’s body and limp to the triage area. I go to the nearest medical cart and start pulling open drawers until I find what I need.
“I have everything,” I say, wedging the bottle of iodine in the crook of my elbow as I rush back to Flynn.
“Good.”
