Disclaimer: I don't own Four Brothers, although I wish I owned Jack in more ways than one ;) hahaha but I do own my own plots and characters! I've been seeing that there are a number of other stories that have the same basic idea/begin similarly that mine is, but this story is going to be different than those. I would greatly appreciate reviews! Thanks!
1. Fingers
Angel was in the middle of cussing out Jeremiah when Bobby realized the their youngest brother was no longer the silent observing sitting at the couch.
"Jack!" Bobby screamed as he ran out the front door, just witnessing his quirky little brother being shot in the chest.
"Bobby!" Jack screamed in retaliation as he fell to the ground.
The shooting began just as unexpectedly as Jack's being shot. Before they even realized it, the Mercer brothers were surrounded by hit men from all angles. Jack wasn't supposed to live, but he did. How do I know this? Well, it's because I saved him.
Moments before the shooting…
I had been hobbling down the street adjacent to the street where the Mercer's house is located to my temp house. I was just getting to my place when I heard some shouting and then a couple guns go off. Sadly, living in a city like Detroit, this doesn't seem to faze one as much as it should, but I was fairly new to this city and dropped all of my groceries immediately at the sound of the shots. I turned in the direction I heard the guns and saw a guy laying in the snow by a house that was located on a street just up the street from my house. Seeing him, I immediately switched into EMT mode and ran up the street with my purse in hand. As I neared the house, I dropped to the ground and crawled through the snow to where the man was laying, trying to avoid being seen by the shooters.
"Shhh! Stop screaming, I'm going to help you," I whispered once I reached him and pulled him out of range from the assassins. Safely behind the house, I ripped open my purse, pulled out my phone and dialed 911.
"There's a shooting here on the corner of Dalen Rd. and Vincent Ave. I have a young man here who was shot in the shoulder and is bleeding relatively profusely. Please get here as soon as possible!"
After hanging up the phone, I rummaged through the purse for my first aid kit. I glanced over his shoulder wound and saw that he was bleeding just too much for any gauze of fix.
"Hi, I'm Ange, and I know this is going to hurt, but I'm a certified EMT. Oh, and you're going to live. That's a promise," I said to him finally. I don't think he cared even remotely as to what was going on. I don't think I would either I had been in his place. I took one more look at his shoulder and plunged my fingers into the artery that was bleeding. We waited like that for the longest 7 minutes of my life until the paramedics arrived with the police not far behind them.
"How long has it been since he was shot?" one of the paramedics asked.
"A little more than 10 minutes," I replied as they hoisted him up with me still attached to him via artery. I rode the majority of the way to the hospital with my fingers in his wound.
Once at the hospital, I was told I could leave. His brothers were notified of his rescue and location in the ER.
My fingers were in his wound…and I didn't even know his name.