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In my stomach.
I ignore his dad and his labored breathing and rush over to Jackson.
“Jackson!” I scream.
He turns over, barely conscious. “Ugh.” He grunts.
“Jackson! You dad stabbed me in the stomach. I need to go to the hospital now.”
His swollen eyes split open, and fear leaks into them. Leaning up, he looks at my bleeding wound and rolls over, using his hands for most of his strength. He presses his hand into my wound, sadness and fear in his gaze. He can’t speak, his face and neck so bruised and purple it’s horrific.
Then Jackson’s eyes go wide, and the hand on my stomach loses its pressure. He falls onto his back, his eyes wide with terror as he stares over at me. His head doesn’t move, but he keeps his horrified eyes on me.
Jackson’s dad falls onto his back again, knife in hand.
Did he just stab Jackson? He just stabbed Jackson!
I cry, grabbing Jackson’s discarded knife next to me and limping over to Randall, plunging it into his chest again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
“Holy fuck!” Comes a booming voice behind me.
I turn around, seeing Easton and Rose standing behind me with shocked looks on their faces. “What the hell is going on? Are you bleeding?” Easton roars.
I look down, and I can’t tell what blood is Jackson’s, mine, or Randall’s anymore. There’s so much blood in this hallway it looks like a slaughterhouse. It covers the floors, and the walls, and it’s mixed together in one massive bloodbath.
“He stabbed me.” I gasp. “In the stomach.”
Rose cries out, hand on her mouth as she bends at the waist. “Let’s go to the hospital. Now!” She orders.
I nod my head because I need medical attention.Now.
I go over to Jackson. “We need to go to the hospital. Right now. Come on.”
When I squat down, I embarrassingly realize I peed my pants.
Wait, I peed my pants?
My breathing picks up as I reach between my legs and bring them up to my nose. “Jackson.” I panic.
He looks over at me, sadness and terror and anger in his gaze.
“My water broke.”
“What!” Rose screeches behind me.
“Let’s go to the hospital,now!” I sob.
“I can’t.” Jackson grunts.
“Why not?” I scream. “Come on!”
“I can’t…” He grunts, looking at me without moving a muscle. “Because I can’t feel my body.”
“What the fuck do you mean?” Easton barks.
“He stabbed me…” He gasps. “In the back.”
“What the fuck are you saying right now?” I cry, pain shooting through my stomach.
“I think I’m paralyzed.”
