Jackson Barcliffe lay on the hard floor, trembling with pain like he had never felt before. His hazy mind was having a hard time grasping the fact that he had been shot; and yet the pain he felt was in sharp clarity telling him of the fact. If he had only gone home rather than being an idiot and coming to a drug dealer of all people, for money, yes he had been desperate, but look at where it got him. A man came over and took him in his arms, stroking the side of his face, talking to him, trying to keep him awake.
"You did it buddy."
That voice, the man from the phone.
"Just keep talking"
He wanted to, but it hurt so much.
"You're gonna be ok"
Jackson started to call for Ella, mind becoming delirious from pain.
"Who's Ella?"
'Who's Ella?'was the only phrase that his scattered, hazy thoughts could hang onto and he found words babbling from his lips in answer. His thoughts and adoration for her spilling out in a few pained words as he thought mournfully of how he may never see her again. She was four today, how he wished he could have hugged her one last time.
"She makes me laugh." He said with a smile.
"I'm sure she'd be proud of you." The man, Ed was it? how could he be sure she would be proud. She probably wouldn't even understand for a few more years. She was too young for her mind to fathom what just happened.
"Jackson?" Ed called. Jackson wanted to answer, but he couldn't. The strength had left him, he was too weak from bloodloss to utter anymore sounds. The world was fading, blackness creeping around the edges of his vision. Sounds became distant and strange, as if carried over a the surface of a vast expanse of choppy water till it was unrecognizable.
Ed knew he had to do something, Jackson was fading. Fast.
"Damn it kid." he swore under his breath. It may not be the smartest move, but if it kept him awake... with that thought Ed lay the kid back on the ground flat and roughly pushed down on the bullet wound. The kid started, a cry of agony bursting from his lips. His eyes snapped open and began flickering around deliriously.
"Ella!" He murmured. Ed raised one hand to stroke his cheek again, and force him to face his direction.
"Jackson?" He tried again. Jackson groaned. It was like a sweet symphony to a classical music lovers ears. Ed let out a small breath of relief.
"That's it Jackson, one more breath at a time. Just one more breath at a time." He felt a hand on his shoulder, and a paramedic circled around in front of him.
"We've got it from here sir."
Ed reluctantly stepped away and let them take over.
"You're gonna be ok Jackson." He called to the kid. "You're gonna be ok."