Crash Chapter 12

"What Would You Say?"

Jill's POV

Tim and I get back from the mall around 4:30. When I walk into the house, I don't see Randy anywhere in the living room, so I decide to check the bathrooms. He's not there either, so I check the basement, and when he's not there, I check outside, and even ask Wilson if he's seen Randy recently. Then it dawns on me that there's one room I didn't think to check. The room that used to be Brad and Randy's.

When I walk in there, I see a truly gory site. Randy is laying on the ground with his shirt off, the glass on the antique full length mirror I inherited when mom died is broken, and Randy is lying in a large pool of blood.

'Tim! Tim! You need to get up here! Tim!' Is all I can shout. I want to say more, but can't come up with any words to say.

The next thing I'm aware of is Tim's footsteps on the stairs, and then Tim being right behind me.

'I'll call 9-1-1' he mumbles. I just nod my head, and try to dry my tear soaked eyes. It's funny; I don't even remember beginning to cry.

I wonder what happened. The only thing I can really think of is to think that he must have been looking at something in the mirror, lost his balance, and fell into the glass.

When I look up, Tim is doing something to Randy.

'What are you doing?' I ask.

'Checking for a pulse' he answers. I nod my head. Why didn't I think of that? Probably because I'm a grade A nutcase right now, that's why.

I sit there in the bedroom, looking at Randy, crying, waiting, walking the line between bull blown hysterics and 100 percent insanity. After what seems like about 10 millennia, the paramedics arrive. They check his vitals, make sure he isn't bleeding any more (at least on the outside), and put him on a gurney and cart him off to the ambulance. Tim decides I should ride with Randy to the hospital, and that he could just drive over, following the ambulance.

At the Hospital

Jill's POV

Right now the doctors are working Randy over. He's cut up real bad, which I knew when I first saw him, but he'll be alright.

'Excuse me, Mrs. Taylor' one of Randy's doctors says.

'Yes' I say.

'Your son has lost a lot of blood. We'll have to do a transfusion, but unfortunately your son has AB negative blood. Just over a sixtieth percent of the US population has AB negative blood, and unfortunately we don't have any AB negative blood in our blood bank. We could use O negative, which is sort of a "universal blood type", but it can be risky. What I'm trying to ask here is, do you or your husband have the same blood type as Randy?' Dr. Mitchell explains.

'No, I'm AB positive, and Tim is O negative' I answer.

'Okay. I'll see if I can track down anyone who is a match' the doctor says, then walks away.

Do I know anybody that could be a match? Brad isn't, and neither is Mark. I wonder…I wonder if Wilson is a match. It's worth a shot, right?

I tell Tim where I'm going, and go call Wilson on a payphone.

'Hello' Wilson answers.

'Hi Wilson. It's Jill. Randy was in a little accident at the house. He fell into a mirror and got cut up real badly. He needs a blood transfusion, but the hospital doesn't have any blood that matches his in their blood bank. What's your blood type?' I ask.

'I don't think I'd be too much help, I'm AB negative, which is one of the rarest blood types out there' Wilson says. When I hear this, I literally jump up and down, causing the bystanders to look at me like I've lost my mind. I ignore them.

'That's exactly the type we need. Could you come down here and donate some please?' I ask.

'Certainly. I'll be there in twenty minutes' Wilson says.

'I'll let the doctors know you're on your way' I say.

I hang up the phone, then practically run to Randy's room to let the doctors know I've found a donor.

A/N: Okay, so yeah, I doubt in real life Wilson would be able to just walk in to the hospital and donate blood to save Randy's life, but you're overlooking two very important facts here:

1. This is an emergency situation.

2. I'm the one who's writing this, so things will go the way I want them to.

Anyways, please R&R.

Thanks for reading.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor