Page 86 of Stolen Summer
He must have felt the pressure.
Surging backward, he rammed into a brick wall, his hat falling off his head. The impact knocked the breath out of me, jarring my hold. I hit the pavement, pain radiating through my tailbone and along my spine, but it had to be nothing compared to what Frankie must be feeling.
Holy shit. Frankie.
Someone screamed.
Not Frankie. She was collapsed on the ground, clutching her stomach, and her once beautiful, slim, ivory fingers were stained red.
Ohmygod. Ohmygod. Ohmygod.
It took my body several moments to catch up with my mind, to process what happened. “Frankie, shit, shit, shit.” I scrambled to her side, falling to my knees, my pains minuscule to hers. I stared at her body, unsure what to do, if I should touch her. Blood made my mind go blank when I needed to be fast thinking.
“Put pressure on her wound,” someone said.
Right. I needed to stop the flow of blood, but there were so many puncture wounds. Crimson soaked the whole lower half of her shirt, and of course, she had to wear white.
Fuck it.
Whipping off my shirt, I lay the material over her lower half, using both hands to span her stomach and apply pressure. Oh god. This was bad. So bad.
I closed my eyes, unable to look at her and see the suffering in her eyes, but as her friend, she needed me to be strong. I pried my eyes open, staring into Frankie’s blanched face. “You’re going to be okay,” I said, and I didn’t know if it was more her or me, but I needed her to be fine.
I couldn’t think of the alternative.
It didn’t take long for the warmth of blood to seep through the added shirt, coating my fingers as I continued to keep pressure on her stomach. Fear of hurting her more trembled up my arms, but I knew I had no choice. She’d already lost too much blood. She couldn’t afford to lose more.
The asshole was long gone, leaving me to hold my bleeding friend on the ground, waiting for help to arrive.
Each agonizing second felt like minutes before the flashing red lights whirled down the street. The sirens had to be going off, but I couldn’t hear anything over the sheer fear that clawed within me. My head swarmed with a buzzing like a hornet’s nest caught in my hair, but relief that help finally arrived loosened a bit of the tightness digging into my chest. Someone more qualified than me could take over and give Frankie the care she required.
The paramedics were quick as they worked, and I stumbled, backing out of the way. I sagged against the building, unable to take my eyes off my shaking, stained fingers. A lady put her hand on my shoulder, asking me if I was okay, but I could barely hear her voice. I managed to nod.
Frankie was wheeled into the ambulance, and I climbed in after her. I wouldn’t leave her side.
“Remind me never to impersonate you again,” Frankie whispered, pain changing the pitch of her voice as she closed her eyes.
She meant it as a joke, and it was just like Frankie to make light of a serious situation, but guilt riddled me. This was my fault. It had been me the attacker wanted to hurt. Frankie protected me as she always did. “Shh,” I hushed. “Don’t talk. You’re going to be okay.” I refused to let her leave me alone in this world.
As the emergency vehicle sped off toward the hospital, the paramedics gave her oxygen and administered an IV. I held her hand the entire time they worked on her in the ambulance, stopping the flow of blood from her multiple wounds and doing their best to stabilize her. The sirens blared as the truck raced down the street. I couldn’t see where we were, but I felt the speed.
Her face had gone so damn pale, a feat considering she was so fair skinned to begin with. Brushing a kiss to her temple, I felt her trembling under my lips. Shock? Drugs? Cold? All the above most likely.
“I’m not going to let you die on me,” I whispered. “I need you, Frankie.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Frankie was rushed into the operating room, leaving me alone to wait—to worry—to relive those horrible moments, wondering if I’d reacted differently if we wouldn’t be here.
How was it fair I walked away with only bruises while Frankie sustained life-threatening injuries?
I should sit down, but I couldn’t.
My back pressed into the sterile, white hospital walls. I knew I looked a sight, covered in blood and wearing only a bra and shorts, but my appearance couldn’t be further from my mind.
Slinking to the floor, I curled into a ball, the severity of what happened barreling into me like a battering ram. My chest squeezed, making breathing difficult. I dropped my head onto my knees, trying to keep my shit together, on the verge of either passing out or bursting into tears.
“Arie?”