"S-sam?"

I froze, my heartbeat quickening when I heard the sound of his voice. He sounded like he was in pain, the stuttered name weak.

"Yeah, Jake?" I asked, hurrying up the stairs with my heart beating loudly in my chest. I took them two at a time now, trying to get to the top of the steps quickly to see why Jake didn't answer me back.

The sight that I saw at the top of the steps made me freeze in my tracks as I stared in horror.

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Time stands still. Even though when the minute hand on the clock keeps ticking like a small, interiotated bomb, time stands still. The small moments where you felt like everything had frozen around you, leaving you in a cold world of frost and fear that surrounded you like a smug blanket. The time where it seems that your heart just stops beating.

That was exactly how Samantha Ann Forster felt.

The sight was something she never hoped to see again. She wanted to run to him, to scream. But her body wouldn't move.

Jake had his back up against the wall, sitting on the plush carpet. Black hair fell around his face as he kept his head bowed, dark brown eyes closed as he sat unmoving. His hands were clenched in agony, arms wrapped protectively around his stomach. Every few moment a small whimper would escape his lips, sounding hurt and lost. Never in her life had Sam heard a sound sounding so hurt and injured.

But the worst thing?

His arms, his shirt, his hands, were all covered in a sticky red substance that Sam could only guess was blood. It was smeared, some it already in the drying process and was slowly starting to fade in color.

And then Sam found her ability to move freely, and nearly ran the few short steps to Jake's side, kneeling. She absently noticed that her hands where shaking.

"Jake?" Sam asked gently, brushing the hair back from his face so she could see his eyes. He jumped at her touch, tensing, and then relaxing when he saw it was her. It was then she realized what he was wearing--loose faded blue jeans and a brown light T-shirt that showed the bright spots of blood clearly. His long black hair wasn't in the usual leather tie, and his skin looked oddly pale. But he still had his arms around his stomach; Sam couldn't see where he was bleeding. At her touch, Jake let his head fall against the wall, and Sam saw his arms tighten.

"Sam." He said so low that she barely caught it. Her heart seemed to stop, the way he said it.

"It's okay, Jake." How weird it felt to be saying that to Jake. All of her life, it was him who said those words whenever she was hurt or upset. The brotherly figure; he was the big brother she never had and Sam was vice-versa for him When Wyatt had told her that her mother was gone, when she got hurt with Blackie and was in the hospital, even when she was boarding the plane for San Francisco; it had always been Jake saying those words. But here now, Jake hurt, it was up to Sam to make things better.

And she had no idea how to do it.

"What happened, Jake? You're bleeding."

Just the tiniest movement, but Sam's keen eyes caught it. He shook his head slowly.

"I'm not bleeding, Sam." He said softly.

"What? Jake, there's-"

"It's paint." Jake muttered, averting his eyes to the floor as he winced. "Was doing somethn' with the paint when my stomach started...hurting."

Relief washed over Sam. It wasn't blood; only paint. As her hand touched some of the paint on Jake's shirt, she could tell the faint difference. Blood was darker, and it stayed that way when it dried. The paint was lighter. Plus, the paint was slick instead of sticky on her fingers. She was stuck between two familiar urges; to hug Jake for not bleeding, and duffing him for scaring her half to death. She decided to do neither.

But just as she was about to open her mouth to say something, Jake jerked away from her in one swift movement and pressed his back more firmly against the wall. A small gasp came from him as he closed his eyes tightly.

"Where does it hurt, Jake? Just your stomach?"

A nod.

Sam thought quickly. What should she do? It was apparent Jake needed a doctor. And soon.

But how was she going to get there? She wasn't sixteen yet; she only had her learners permit and couldn't drive until she was sixteen. Weeks away.

Call Dallas and Ross?

But that would take too long. They'd have to drive all the way over here, in Gram's car, and then they'd have to load Jake up and take him all the way to Darton. Looking at him now, with his back up against the wall and his arms around his stomach, Sam knew he wouldn't be able to last that long. Even if he could, he didn't deserve to be put through all of the pain.

Sam glanced behind her, and her eyes darted to the window. And what was sitting outside of it in clear, plain view. The only answer just appeared to her in plain sight.

"Crap." She mumbled.

------------Authoress Note; I am so sorry to leave-

Hahaha. Didn't really think I'd leave it here, did you?

Shame on you.

Anyway, see how nice of an author((ess)) I am? I could've left this right here and made you suffer. But I didn't. So.

Read on, faithful readers!

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"Okay, Jake. Do you think you can stand?" Sam asked, turning back to him while trying not to think about what she was about to--and had to-- do. She needed to keep a clear mind, and thinking about it would just send her into a frenzy of pannic. And it looked like Jake had enough of that for the both of them.

"Yeah." Jake said softly, but Sam knew that was the last thing he wanted to do. She knew she would have to help him--who was three years older and way heavier than she was, to stand up. With a moments split-decision, Sam slid her arm around Jake's waist and put his arm around her neck. Jake didn't make a sound when she lifted him up.

She tried not to stagger under his weight, but finding it difficult. Luckily, however, she was just about as tall as he was thanks to years of Basketball in San Francisco ((and still practiced it every now and then)).

"I can walk, Brat." Jake said gruffly, putting his weight on his feet. "My stomach is the only thing that hurts, I'm not handicapped."

Sam didn't even bother to roll her eyes.

As her eyes looked at the steps, her stomach clenched into a tight knot.

But, leaning on Sam with his head slightly bowed, Jake made it down the stairs without tripping or slipping. Sam let out a heavy sigh of relief as they reached the final step, her hold of Jake's shirt loosening slightly. A slight shiver went down her spine when her eyes darted to the door.

"Just a little ways further, Jake."

Sam didn't know if he heard her words or not because there was no answering reply from Jake, only a small groan.

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Once Jake was safely seated in the passenger seat with the seatbelt buckled did Sam think about what she was going to do. It was the fastest way, and she knew it. But it didn't make it any better.

"Sam, what do you think you're doing? You can't drive."

Sam let out a frustrated sigh, her eyes narrowing. She had been delusional to think that Jake would, for once, do what she said without questioning her sanity.

"I can drive. Just...not completely legal."

"Oh yeah, that makes me feel a whole lot better."

"I'm not going to crash or impound your precious truck, Jake. Just shut up for a minute, okay? Please?" He had a rigt to be snappy, even though Sam hated to admit it. He was covered in paint, in pain, and his crazy friend was probably going to end up crashing his truck or getting it impounded if they got caught by a police-officer.

Still, it was worth a try.

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And, the end of chapter ten!

I didn't leave it at much of a cliffie, did I? You know what's going on with Jake, mostly, Sam is going to try and drive Jake to the hospital, and there is a little problem of her being underage of legal driving without a twenty-one year old in the seat next to her.

Also, you may notice some bad grammar. I'm fairly well at spelling, but my grammar sucks. I do try to fix it, however.

Until the next chapter!

Wild. xxx