Chapter 21: Breathe
Breaths came in gasps, and pain like a high tide that threatens to drown you.
It rushed into all the cracks and corners, aching and driving deeper with every minute. To be honest, I wish I could just black out already. My ears already seemed stoppered because all I could hear was a dull buzz.
I wanted to curl up in on myself, but even trying to move my leg a little caused so much pain. Maybe if I freeze and don't move the pain will settle?
After what seemed an eternity with dancing spots in my eyes, it died down to a burning throb. It wasn't by any means less painful, but I had more brain space to worry about what was going on. I tried to listen, but the sound of my heart surprised me.
Kathump, kathump, kathump, kathump
It was loud and fast. Was it too fast? Would it go so fast my body couldn't catch up? Maybe it would beat right out of my chest. Then I wouldn't have a heart. What would that feel like?
Focus, Juliet!
I opened my eyes and took a look around.
I think everyone fled as soon as they heard the gun. The cashier, the frightened customers, everyone except Brynn, of all people. The door swung back and forth on its hinges softly.
For some reason, he was kneeling beside me, the gun discarded on the floor. His face was panicked and contorted, his brown eyes red and darting.
"…now the police will send me to jail too, and I won't get out and she's probably dead and-"
I grimace, vaguely annoyed. Why was he sticking around? He'd have a better chance at escaping justice if he ran. I guess he'd thought this through as much as he'd thought through the whole armed robbery plan.
As his babblings distract me, I become aware of a wavering in my concentration. His inner voice is pushing at my boundaries, begging to be heard. I guess I hadn't heard it before because the pain had drowned it out. I'm not sure I'll soon have the strength to keep focusing.
If my mental wall breaks down, I'll have more problems than a bullet.
Carefully avoiding my wound, I try to grab it as I slowly wriggle my hand into the pocket of my jeans. A tear rolls down my face and I bite my lip as I touch something that sends lancing hot needles of pain into me, but I otherwise triumphantly slip the now-sticky bracelet onto my wrist with a sigh of relief.
Sticky with what? I don't want to look.
Turning back to the boy next to me, his eyes lock with mine for a charged moment before opening his mouth again.
"I'm really sorry! You've got to believe me!" He said suddenly, adding, "I didn't mean to, and it wasn't my fault, and I'm sorry! Please tell them it wasn't my fault!"
I wanted to tell him that waving his hands around with a gun in them was a stupid thing to do, let alone the fact that he had taken off the safety. That he should take responsibility. But I couldn't seem to unclench my teeth. I was probably never going to say it anyway. I never do.
Breathe, Juliet, just breathe.
I racked my brains, trying to think of something I could do, but came up empty. I don't know anything about fist aid, and the boy doesn't look like he's going to help me either.
I hope Cara managed to call 911
I guess I'll just have to wait.
I closed my eyes, trying to grit my teeth through the pain, but then open them almost immediately as I realise that between the coloured blobs dancing across my vision, and the increased awareness of the pain, it was better to keep them open.
Kathump, kathump, kathump, kathump, kathump
Too fast. Too loud.
Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!
Of course, it doesn't work. And now I think of it, did I really want it too? My eyes desperately roam for something to distract me and they land on the door that's just been flung open again.
"Juliet!" Cara cries, the happy tinkling of a bell juxtaposing the charged situation as she takes the scene in. Then she lunges at Brynn.
She tackles him, shouting all the while, and I manage to actually focus on her words a second after she starts.
"…horrible, selfish idiot! All she was trying to do was help, and you shot her! And now she-she-" tears began to run down Cara's contorted face, and I couldn't do anything but stare in shock as she pinned Brynn to the ground. He is too shocked to do anything either. I don't think I've ever seen her so emotional, but just as I had the thought, the anger returned, and she hooked a crunching right fist into Brynn's shocked and exposed jaw.
"Scum." She spat, snarling at the offending boy. Kicking his gun under some shelves, she ran over to me.
"Juliet!" She yelled, trying to help me up, but I managed to shake my head, then immediately felt dizzy.
Finally managing to unclench my jaw, I grit out, "Can't. He shot my leg."
She reached down to gently touch my wound, but I winced and tried to ward it off.
Looking at the thing I'd been most avoiding, I saw that the red splotch that had started as a small circle had soaked and spread most of my right pant leg. And the blood seemed to be still flowing.
I make a small sound which ends up sounding like a whimper.
Don't think about it, don't think about it
"Oh, Juliet," Cara says, sinking down to sit beside me, "I'm so sorry. I'm a horrible older sister, aren't I? I should've stayed, not you."
I don't know why I'm still thinking of things not to say, but I'm not sure I have much left to lose at this point. Why shouldn't I say it?
"True," I say quietly, but add, "I could always tell that you cared though. You just had a funny way of showing it. Sorry for not even trying to know you, or the others-I should've tried harder."
You finally say what you need to say, and you're probably bleeding to death! What's the chances either of you are going to be able to do anything about it now? Why don't you ever say things when they're worth saying?! Face it! You wrapped yourself in a tiny shell, you didn't just not want to hear their thoughts, you didn't want to hear them!
"I-." She replies, but then, seems to focus on my injury, "We need to stop this bleeding. I need to apply pressure, and probably one of those French* things that work like rubber bands."
She props me up against some aisle shelving, making my eyes swim with black spots, then takes my hands and presses them down firmly over my wound, which continues to seep blood steadily onto the wrong side of my skin.
Through my teeth, I let out a strangled scream as black dots dance across my vision, leaving patches of emptiness that flare and fade. It takes my breath away and my face is wet with tears, but she tells me to keep holding it.
Then she runs past me deeper into the store and comes back with a white elastic washing line with hooks on each end. Ripping through the packet, she then wraps it around my leg tightly just above the wound like an oversized rubber band and twists the ends around each other with a thin can of aerosol deodorant like a lever until my leg starts to feel numb. She uses the hooks to attack it to itself and keeps hold of the crazy contraption, so it doesn't lose tension.
"…can't call the ambulance because I can't leave you, but if you don't get help soon…agh! Stupid teacher who took away my stupid phone! Why today, of all days!" She muttered violently to herself in a steady stream of frustrations and insults and I think it's the most I'd ever heard her talk at once. Looking back, this was her version of panicking.
I lean my head back against the metal shelving, trying to breathe evenly.
In and out, and in, and out, and in…
Suddenly, a flash of vibrant scarlet brightens the fluorescent space.
That colour…you've seen that colour before. What was it?
The Flash.
When Barry finally reaches the right store, he skids to a stop.
On the ground lie two teens. One seems to be fine apart from what looks like a broken jaw, and one seems to be kneeling next to the third. Juliet.
Oh no.
She seems to still be alive, and her friend looks like she's trying to apply pressure to the wound as well as a makeshift tourniquet.
There was an abandoned handgun on the floor, but the shooter seemed to have disappeared.
Quickly assessing the situation, he picked up Juliet and ran her back to S.T.A.R. Labs. He'd come back to make sure the other girl was okay after.
*For the record, I don't know if it's actually French, but the word sounds French (tourniquet ="torn-ee-kay"). I looked it up on Wikipedia ages ago, and I seem to remember it saying that versions of tourniquets have been used for years (usually using a belt etc), but it often resulted in having to amputate the limb. I figured a piece of elastic like the washing lines my family used when we went camping would work too and be in the store. Modern day ones have to get the balance right between not killing the limb, but restricting blood flow. Anyway, there's your daily dose of probably true information that you got "from reading books". Lol
Author's Note:
We're back to the action, and the Flash has finally showed up! Will Juliet live? Will she die? (just kidding, I rated it T because of the gun wound, not because of character death). Anyway, feel free (and by that, I mean 'pretty pretty pleeeeaaase'!) review and ask questions. Tell me if you think at any time they're out of character, or their voices aren't distinct enough as your guy's advice is usually pretty helpful :)
Trix