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“I’m not… gonna die,” he assures me. Then a violent spasm ripples through his body.
“I love you too, Ben,” I murmur.
He gives me his best attempt at a smile, and I return a tearful one, trying to comfort him as I will his blood to stay in his body. Another choking gasp escapes him, and then, if at all possible, he pales even further.
Rolling onto his side, he wrenches the makeshift bandage from my hand as he turns away from me just in time to vomit blood. An agonized groan follows.
My heart nearly stops inside my chest as I scramble to recover my blood-soaked jacket and press it firmly against his bullet wound once again.
Then, the sweet, merciful sound of a siren starts to grow louder.
“They’re coming, Ben,” I reassure him, relief gasping from me.
He nods, sweat breaking out across his paper-white forehead. Then the lines of pain etched in his face soften as his eyes flutter closed.
“No, no, no, no!” I scream. “Don’t die on me, please, god, don’t die on me.”
Sobbing, I lean forward to press my ear to his chest. Faint, but there, I can hear his heart beating.
“Ben, stay with me,” I plead, tapping my brother’s cheek to try and wake him.
He jerks, his eyes flying open, and he sucks in a deep breath. He coughs weakly, his face twisting in pain. “Fuck, it hurts,” he groans, his arms covering his stomach like he has a terrible tummy ache.
“I know,” I whisper. “They’re almost here, though,” I promise.
And it’s true. The siren shrieks with a shrill urgency that makes my heart pound.
A moment later, several paramedics are rushing toward us, a stretcher between them.
“We’ve got him, ma’am,” one says, taking my jacket from my hands as they set the stretcher beside him and prepare to load him onto it.
Hardly daring to step away, I watch fearfully as they lift him from the ground.
Ben’s hand finds mine, his fingers weak as they cling to me, silently telling me to come with him.
“Are you coming to the hospital?” the same paramedic asks as we reach the ambulance in a matter of seconds.
“Yes, I’m his sister,” I state and scramble up into the back as soon as I see an opening.
The doors slam shut a moment later, and we’re off, the sirens blaring a warning as the ambulance carries us to the emergency room.
“Dani?” Ben asks, his hand searching blindly for me.
I scoot closer, glancing up at the EMT to ensure he won’t tell me I’m in the way. Then I take my brother’s blood-covered hand in my own, pressing it to my cheek as I feel how icy his fingers are.
“I’m here,” I promise, fighting the fresh wave of tears that lodge a knot in my throat.
“Tell… Tell Dad…” Ben chokes, his shoulders hunching as he’s racked with excruciating pain.
Then he collapses back onto the gurney. For a moment, I think he’s fainted again.
Then the persistent whine of the heart monitor cuts into my reality.
“Ben?” I grip his hand harder but am met with a lifeless response. “Ben!” I scream, losing my mind in an instant.
“I need you to move back,” the EMT states firmly, gripping my shoulders and moving me toward the far end of the bench. “We need space if we’re going to revive him.”
The defibrillator is brought out, and I watch in horror as they cut away his shirt to tape the wired patches to his chest and ribs. The gaping hole in his abdomen brings bile to my throat, and his skin is so pale, I wonder if he’s bled out completely.
