"Can someone come over here and get this giant shard of glass out of my chest, please?" Despite the wording having Stiles' usual comical wit attached to it, his voice sounded thick with blood; add that to the stench of overwhelming fear hitting Malia's nose, she couldn't stop herself from kneeling down beside him, feeling the small shard rip into her knees.
"Yeah, yeah, I've got you," she insisted as the electricity returned just to reflect off the jagged shard, "oh god." She spoke before swallowing down the bile in her throat; His shirt was torn around the abnormally large shard and she could see just how mangled the skin was just under his right collarbone despite the blood that was running down his equally as red shirt.
"Stiles?" Malia questioned, hoping to see some recognition in his eyes, "Stiles, I'm gonna pull it out, but stay-"
"Don't do it," Braeden warned as she stood, a hand clutched over her own bullet wound while she walked over, "it's too close to his lung. You pull it out, it could puncture or collapse. Not to mention that he could bleed out."
"What the hell else am I supposed to do?!" Malia snapped back, "I can smell his chemo signals and he's not going to last much longer with it in his chest-" a cough interrupted her yells when blood splattered against her arms from both his lips and the wound.
"Shit." Braeden muttered as she pressed down against the wound on his left side as best as she could without burying the glass deeper inside of him.
Malia got on the right side of the wound to add more pressure, noticing through her own worry just how pale Stiles was at this point and how cold his hand was against her bare, bloody knees. "Stiles, just stay awake. Okay? Stay with me."
It took a beat too long for him to respond to her but what he said was even more concerning. "W-what's going on?"
Before Malia could even tell Braeden, she was already cursing under her breath as she stood up quickly and walked out of the room. "Braeden?! What's happening to him?!" She demanded before turning back to Stiles, "Just keep your eyes open. I'm not leaving you."
"Hypovolemic shock," Braeden told her as she returned with a couch cushion and one of the thick blackout curtains which she quickly tossed to Malia, "use that to hold pressure on the wound. Just got a text from Melissa, ambulance is less then a minute away," she stopped to slide the cushion under his legs, successfully elevating them, "I'll meet them at the door. Keep him awake and keep holding pressure."
"Braeden, I-!" but the front door was slammed shut behind her, forcing her to turn back to Stiles in order to press down on the wound and see just how close to death he looked.
'I should've gotten someone else to bring the jar. I should've kept him away...no, I should've kept him safe. I owe him that much after everything.'
"Stiles, stay awake, please," she begged, feeling the tears drip down her cheeks, "I can't lose anyone else...I can't lose you. Not you too."
She could've sworn she heard him whisper her name and felt his hand gently graze her knee in an effort to reach her, but before she could even begin to ask, she was pulled away by Braeden as the paramedics got to work.
"Let's get you cleaned up," Malia heard Braeden whisper softly, but her feet stayed firmly in place as her mother's voice echoed harshly in her head.
'This is all your fault.'