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“Move,” I growled, shoving Rook back. I unzipped her vest and yanked it open, exposing the wound to her chest. It was on the left side. Maybe a little too far to the left to have hit her heart?
Please.
Please.
“Put pressure on it,” I ordered and Rook tore his shirt clean off his chest, balled it and pushed it against the wound. I wasn’t going to sit here and do nothing like I did last time. If it weren’t for Rook, Becca would’ve died. But he saved her.
I could save my Sparrow.
Wecould.
Rook put his ear over her mouth as I positioned myself, starting compressions, crushing Rook’s fingers in the process.
“She isn’t breathing!” he screamed, and I could see he was losing it. Becca was one thing, but this was our girl.
He pressed two fingers to her throat and let out a relieved cry. “I think I feel a pulse!”
Then there was a chance. As long as we were here to fight for her.
“Don’t let up on that shirt.”
I lost count of my compressions and cursed, bending down to pinch her nose, tipping up her chin so I could blow into her mouth. Wishing I could push my own life down her throat.
Take it,I wanted to scream.I don’t want it without you.
“Come on,” I urged, re-starting compressions to the point where I was sure I was breaking fucking bones. “Come on, Sparrow!”
Heavy swift footsteps descended the stairs, and I heard Grey call, “Here! Down here!”
But his tone changed entirely a moment later. “AJ?”
His footfalls slowed in the corridor, and he vomited, the sound far-off, background noise for the incessant beating of my heart in my ears.
“Where’s the fucking vet?” Rook demanded in a lethal hiss.
As if on cue, the vet tripped down the last three steps and Rook grabbed Grey, dragging him down to the floor to place his hand on top of the cloth. “Keep pressure.”
Grey choked over our girl, his knuckles white as he pressed hard into her wound, tears spilling onto her chest as I continued compressions.
“Move your fucking ass,” Rook shouted and somewhere behind me the vet yelped, and I heard the scrape of something being dragged over the concrete before the thin man was unceremoniously deposited at my side. “Help them!”
“K-k-keep compressions,” the vet said, fumbling with the Velcro on his field medical kit.
“The fuck do you think I’m doing?”
“The wound. L-l-let me see it.”
Grey pulled the fabric back and on my next compression, a fresh well of blood gushed out, and I pulled my hands back.
“We need to stop the bleeding,” the vet said, sounding more sure of himself. He pulled out a green packet and tore the top off with his teeth. The quick clot gauze toppled onto her chest and he grabbed it with shaky fingers. “Remove the shirt.”
Grey grabbed it through the hole and tore it wide, giving the vet the clearance he needed to start packing the gauze into her. He stuffed it into her bullet wound like he was pushing magicians ribbon into a fucking hat.
She should’ve woken up.
There was no way you didn’t wake up when someone was packing foreign objects into your ..
No way.
