Steve sat on the edge of the armchair, resting his chin on his clasped hands. He stared almost unblinkingly at Jesse, watching with determination at his chest rising and falling, almost fearful of taking his eyes away in case the tenuous breathing should stop.
"What?" Steve moved forwards in his seat, "did he just…?"
"What?" Amanda stared fearfully first at Steve, then at Jesse.
"His eyes, he… I think he… There!" Steve jumped to his feet and stared closely into Jesse's face. Sure enough, his eyes flickered.
"Jesse? Honey, can you hear me?" Amanda knelt closer to Jesse, her hand stroking one side of his clammy face gently.
Jesse felt tired, cold. His brain was telling him to sleep, and yet he knew he shouldn't. His mind felt foggy and he couldn't quite work out what it was that he was thinking. But he knew there was pain. His body hurt; there was pressure on his stomach that was aggravating the agony he already felt and he wanted to make it stop. He tried to open his eyes but they felt heavy, as though his eyelids were glued together. It was a struggle, but he tried again. There was noise – voices. Who is it? Jesse wondered, the thought spinning around in his head. I was alone, on the road… except for the man… he has a knife!
Jesse threw out his arms in front of him, striking out at the man, to stop him, to hurt him.
"NO!" he lashed out, eyes wide in fear, trying to move, to get away, but arms restrained him.
"No! Get off me!" He struggled against the strong grip, pain searing through his gut he found he could not resist and was easily pushed back down to the ground.
"Jesse! Jesse! No, you have to keep still!"
"Jesse, we're not going to hurt you… Jesse, please!"
No! The only thought Jesse was capable of was the need to fight, to get away from the man with the knife, but the pain was immense. It took his breath and he found his energy leaving him without even the voice to scream in agony. He reached out one hand towards his stomach, to try and push away the source of the pressure, to try and ease the pain.
"Jesse please!" Amanda pleaded with her struggling friend, "please, you have to calm down…"
"Jess, Jess it's ok." Steve softened his voice. He felt a wrench of compassion in his gut as he watched Jesse flailing his arms in a weak attempt to protect himself, his pale face creased in pain.
The voices, he recognised the voices. They penetrated his clouded thoughts and he understood them.
"Steve?" his voice was weak now, the energy behind the original outburst had evaporated and he felt drained. "Steve? Amanda?"
"Jesse. It's ok, you're in the beach house. You're safe now…" Amanda stroked his face soothingly.
"Amanda? It… it hurts." His voice wheezed ominously over the sound of his rasping breath and he choked as a coughing fit over took him, taking away what little ability he had to breathe.
"Amanda?" Steve intoned imploringly. "What?…"
He looked on at Jesse's writhing form, his muscles tensed and his face contorted in pain as he fought for breath.
"Steve?" Mark strode back in to the room frowning deeply, "What happened? Jesse? Jesse its Mark." He knelt down besides him and placed his hands on Jesse's tensed shoulders. "Jesse. I know it's hard but you need to control your breathing. Try and slow it down, that's it…"
With some difficulty Jesse tried to concentrate on taking in the oxygen his body desperately needed, and gradually he managed to slow his breathing enough to stave off the unconsciousness which was again threatening to overcome him.
"Mark" even to his own ears Jesse's voice sounded like it was coming from a distance.
"Mark, I… I can't breathe, it hurts."
"Jess," Steve bent low, the flickering candle lights casting shadows across his face. "Jess, what happened?"
Amanda cast a furtive look at Mark, although she herself had been keen to ask the question she was intensely aware that Jesse was in no fit state to talk, but seeing that Mark made no move to halt the inquiry she remained silent in anticipation, awaiting Jesse's response.
"I… I was on the road. There was a car… a man… he hit me." For a moment, but for the labouring of Jesse's breathing, there was silence.
"It was my fault, I wasn't looking, I should have… I wasn't paying attention…"
"What do you mean?" said Steve somewhat incredulously, "how can this have been your fault?"
"He… he said…" there was a pause, "his hands, I couldn't breath."
All eyes flicked towards Jesse's throat, a mass of purpling bruises, some resembling the elliptical shape of fingertips, were clear even in the dusky glow of the candles.
"He hit me, I couldn't… he had a knife…" Jesse coughed again, a wave of pain flushing throughout his body, and a drop of blood trickled slowly from the corner of his mouth. His speech continued but was beginning to take on a repetitive, incoherent quality.
"He hit me, it…I…my phone, no signal… Steve, you… he hit me…" With each word Jesse voice became weaker, more distant. His eyelids flickered, and closed.
"Jesse?" Steve intoned loudly, trying again to rouse his friend.
"Steve, leave him." Mark's voice was concerned, tinged with weariness. "He needs to rest." He stood up awkwardly, one hand supporting his lower back as he stretched out his tired muscles.
Steve too stood, and leaving Amanda to keep watch on Jesse he ushered his father to one side.
"Dad" he whispered, "Tell me honestly, how bad is he?"
"Well," Mark responded after a slight hesitation, obviously choosing his words carefully, "his level of consciousness is concerning and the volume of haemorrhage is bringing on the first signs of hypovolaemic shock, he's already cyanotic and showing signs of hypoxia.."
"English Dad, English." Steve interrupted.
"Sorry," Mark replied distractedly and sighed, "Sorry. He's lost a lot of blood. When the quantity of circulating blood goes below a certain volume it begins to affect the way the body is able to function. He's not getting enough oxygen and… and his lips are turning slightly blue and he's confused– that's the hypoxia. And, well, I'm concerned about his temperature, he seems to be quite hypothermic.."
"What?!" Although many of the medical terms his father used still left him confused this was one he understood, the implications of its seriousness clear in his mind.
"Well, it's not necessarily such a bad thing,"
"Dad, how can you say that? Jesse's been stabbed, we can't get him to a hospital and now you tell me he's half frozen as well?!"
"Steve, listen. The hypothermia is probably the only thing working for us at the moment. When the body temperature falls it slows everything down." He fell silent, allowing Steve to process the information.
"You mean?" The essence of what his father was saying sparked in Steve's mind,
"Yes, the blood flow is slowed so the bleeding isn't as severe as it could have been. He's still in trouble, but for now, well… for now we can still hope."