There is a Lot of Blood By Aithne Emmons
There is a lot of blood. That’s how I know it has to be bad, because he was so very bad around blood and yet his eyes never left mine. “We have to leave,” I can hear my voice say, as if from far away. I can’t really feel my body, but I know that some part of my brain has to be connected to it because I am curling over to my side and pushing myself up. “You can’t—” he chokes. I know he’s about to start crying just like I know his hands are colder than mine, even when he’s been clenching them and digging his fingernails into his palms.I also know that I can’t let him cry, not if I want us to get out of this. “You can’t move. You’re losing too much—” “It’s fine,”I stop him. I don’t want him to have to say it. He doesn’t like it, and I know that saying the words for what is happening will just make it harder for him. “It’s fine. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. We don’t have time right now.” Too many words are rushing out, and I know that he would see right through me at how panicked I was if he wasn’t so busy being panicked himself. “Help me up.”I am grabbing his hand—even as he shakes and shivers almost more than I do—hoisting myself up and stumbling forward with one arm still wrapped protectively around my stomach. There is a lot of blood. So, so much blood. I know I am holding his hand too hard. I know I won’t be
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