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My breaths snag in my constricting throat as I watch my blood run down my hand while I fight with the buckle on my backpack, trying to get my pouch out. I’m not waiting for this to get worse.
“Fuck,” Mary and Hannah mutter as Hannah pushes me into a chair and Mary takes my backpack from me.
“I need my pouch,” I tell her. “The leather pouch. I need it, please.”
Panic always makes this worse, and today is no different. My hammering pulse makes me bleed harder, faster. My vision is blurring as I watch Mary fumble with the buckles of my backpack too.
“She needs an ambulance at the rate she’s pissing out blood,” Hannah tells Mary when she finally gets my backpack open and rummages through it.
“What pouch?” Mary asks me, still looking through the backpack. “I can’t find anything.”
“It’s right there!” The fear in my voice is sharp. “It’s in there!”
Snatching my bag back, I tip it all out on the table until my pouch falls out.
“Everything okay here?” one of the barmaids asks Mary.
“Fine, just need some cloths.”
“And a first aid kit,” Hannah barks at them. “For fuck’s sake, the girl is bleeding out here.”
“I’ll go find that for you.” The barmaid gives Mary a nod.
“Yeah, you do that!” Hannah calls after her, putting pressure on my arm to slow the bleeding as I rip the zip of my pouch open with my teeth. “Fucking useless twat.”
“I didn’t see it,” Mary spits our way.
The medicine won’t work instantly, but it’ll mean I’m not bleeding for as long as I normally would. The instant I inject it into myself, the panic dies down a tad, enough that I can think clearer.
“How could you not see it? It was right there.”
Mary gives me an apologetic glance, “I’m sorry, I panicked. I didn’t know you needed something for the bleeding. How was I to know? Like, I—”
“Let’s get you to the hospital. You’re going to need stitches,” Hannah cuts Mary off, pulling her hairband out of her hair and rolling it up to my elbow while carefully holding the cut on my arm together. “This should help slow the blood down.”
“I swear I didn’t see it. I’m so sorry,” Mary says as the barmaid returns with the smallest kit in her hand and a roll of kitchen towel. “Let’s patch you up properly.”
The kit is basic, with just a few plasters, some saline, and a roll of bandage. But while Mary flounders around with everything, Hannah pours the liquid over my arm slowly while trying to clean the blood.
“It’s not as bad as it looks. Probably don’t even need stitches.” Hannah is oddly in control of the situation as she uses some of the adhesive tape to pull the small wound together and then wraps the bandage tightly. “Why do you need that?” She nods down at my syringe.
“I’m badly anaemic.” It’s what I tell anyone that witnesses me having a moment like this, in lieu of making it awkward and having to explain that I have a shitty blood disease that makes me bleed heavily and for a lot longer than most people but it’s not contagious.
“Let go of me!” I hear Catherine yell as the man holds her down in a seat, and she kicks and slaps at him. “Hit me again and I’ll arrest you for assaulting a police officer.”
“Should fucking arrest her anyway,” Hannah mutters as the noise in the pub goes back to normal.
People get back to drinking as the barmaid hands me another glass of lemonade. “The sugar will help with the shock.”
I doubt it, but I take the drink and have a long sip anyway. It’ll help replenish some fluids at the very least. I’m just settling when Hannah lets out a soft sob-like groan.
“Fuck, we’re all getting the sack for this.” I follow her gaze to the entrance of the pub across the room.
Henry has a thunderous expression on his face as he stalks towards us. My calming pulse kicks up a few gears, drying my throat in the process.
This isn’t good. The thought barely registers when he reaches us. Mary falls into her chair while Hannah gives my shoulder a squeeze when Henry crouches in front of me.
He’s still in his black suit from the funeral, and he looks tired as he gives me a thorough inspection.
