Page 94 of On the Double
I tried to nod, but pain shot down my back. “Sure.”
“Where does it hurt?” he asked.
“Um…well, my arm is sort of numb, but I’m guessing when this metal comes out…it won’t feel so good.”
“Probably not. Just hang in there, okay?”
Hang in there. I could do that. I could chill and…hang out.
“Harper!”
Oliver. I closed my eyes, wondering if I was imagining things. It sounded like him, but what the hell did I know right now? I had a hole through my arm.
“Hey, hey!” Red called out. His voice was low and soothing, but he wasn’t talking to me. “Just take a fucking breath, okay?”
Yes, I could breathe. It would be fine. It was just an arm. I could live without an arm. But this massive pain in my back wasn’t helping matters.
I felt the car shift slightly and then I saw my brother’s hand wrap around mine over the steering wheel as sirens sounded in the distance. “What are you…doing here?” I breathed out.
“I stopped for gas. I heard the crash and—Fuck, Harper.”
“Do I look that bad?” I teased. “At least I had clean underwear.”
“What?”
“The…laundry,” I said. It felt like a struggle to say anything. My head was throbbing and sounds still seemed to come and go at their own will. “I didn’t change the laundry.”
“Harper, no one cares if you’re wearing clean underwear.”
“I do. Who knows? Maybe…a hot fireman will come to the rescue.” Itried to laugh again, but this time it hurt. I blinked several times, then the pain in my arm started to intensify. “Oliver, do you think you could do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Can you pull this metal piece out of my arm? It’s starting to hurt just a tad.”
“Christ, Harper,” he muttered under his breath.
That’s when I remembered that I was holy and started laughing again.
“What the fuck are you laughing at?”
“I’m…holy, Oliver.”
His hand squeezed mine tighter. I wished I could turn and see him, but instead, I was only greeted with the webbing of the windshield and the glass sprayed all across me. I was still holding onto the steering wheel, and while I understood why I was holding it with my left arm, I wasn’t entirely sure if I needed to with my right.
“Oliver, is it okay to move my right arm?”
“Just wait for the paramedics.”
I didn’t like the panic in his voice. It made me think of the accident, of how our parents were killed. I had blocked out all memories of that day for the most part, aside from the way my mother looked at me right before the accident.
Suddenly, nausea swirled in my stomach. “Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick.”
Oliver’s hand moved to the back of my neck, holding me as I dry-heaved. Every movement hurt more than the last, sending streaks of pain down my spine.
“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” he whispered. “It’s gonna be fine.”
I tried to nod, but failed miserably. “Oliver, promise me something.”