1
HARPER-RAYN
Blood pools across the grease-stained concrete of the hospital parking garage as I clutch my side, agony tearing through my body like never before, like somebody had stabbed a red-hot fire poker right through my abdomen.
My bottom lip quivers, tears sting my eyes, and my chest heaves. I don’t want to break down into heavy, broken sobs as I lie here helplessly bleeding out all alone. I can’t give in. I’m not ready to leave this world, not yet, and certainly not like this.
I press my side harder, feeling hot waves of blood pool over my fingers, and as the pressure rocks through me, I cry out, the pain too much for me to bear. Hot tears drench my face as I hastily look around, desperate for help. Desperate for anybody to find me.
“HELP!” I cry, my voice breaking, knowing that nobody is coming. “Help.”
I’m all alone.
Shift change for the hospital has already happened. Everybody is already too busy rushing around helping everyone else but me.
I’m not going to make it. I’m losing too much blood, and my body already feels so weak, but I need to survive this. I won’t allow that asshole to get away with dressing up as my most feared hallucination and ending my life here in a dirty parking garage. That is not my story. That is not how this ends.
I look around, frantically searching for something . . .anythingthat could help me. There’s not a soul in sight, just the sound of my pained cries echoing through the near-empty parking garage, but if I don’t get help soon . . . shit.
My bag lies on the ground a few feet away, the contents strewn across the dirty ground. I don’t remember dropping my bag, but I must have at some point. My phone peeks out from the top, and realizing it’s my only lifeline, I try to reach for it.
Pain shoots through my abdomen, and more blood spills over my fingers. It’s excruciating. I’ve never felt such agony in my life, but I push through it as I cry out, gritting my teeth as I roll my body, needing to crawl to get it.
Using my toes, I push against the concrete, trying to inch closer to the phone as I desperately keep pressure on my wound. Every second counts. If I release my hold on my waist, my blood would pour out at a rate I couldn’t possibly survive, and despite the way my body grows heavier with every breath I take, I can’t give up just yet.
I need to fight through this. I need to keep going, just a little while longer.
Gritting my teeth as the pain soars through my body, I reach further, my fingers finally grasping the corner of my phone, just enough to be able to pull it back into my chest. The moment I do, my body collapses heavily against the ground.
Blood pools across the grease-stained concrete of the hospital parking garage as I clutch my side, agony tearing through mybody like never before, like somebody had stabbed a red-hot fire poker right through my abdomen.
My bottom lip quivers, tears sting my eyes, as my chest heaves. I don’t want to break down into strangled, broken sobs as I lie here helplessly bleeding out all alone. I can’t give in. I’m not ready to leave this world, not yet, and certainly not like this.
I press my side harder, feeling hot waves of blood pool over my fingers, and as the pressure rocks through me, I cry out, the pain too much for me to bear. Hot tears drench my face as I hastily look around, desperate for help. Desperate for anybody to find me.
“HELP!” I cry, my voice breaking, knowing that nobody is coming. “Help.”
I’m all alone.
Shift change for the hospital has already happened. Everybody is already too busy rushing around helping everyone else but me.
I’m not going to make it. I’m losing too much blood, and my body already feels so weak, but I need to survive this. I won’t allow that asshole to get away with dressing up as my most feared hallucination and ending my life here in a dirty parking garage. That is not my story. That is not how this ends.
I look around, frantically searching for something . . . anything that could help me. There’s not a soul in sight, just the sound of my pained cries echoing through the near-empty parking garage, but if I don’t get help soon . . . shit.
My bag lies on the ground a few feet away, the contents strewn across the dirty ground. I don’t remember dropping my bag, but I must have at some point. My phone peeks out from the top, and realizing it’s my only lifeline, I try to reach for it.
Pain shoots through my abdomen, and more blood spills over my fingers. It’s excruciating. I’ve never felt such agony in my life, but I push through it as I cry out, gritting my teeth as I roll my body, needing to crawl to get it.
Using my toes, I push against the concrete, trying to inch closer to the phone as I desperately keep pressure on my wound. Every second counts. If I release my hold on my waist, my blood would pour out at a rate I couldn’t possibly survive, and despite the way my body grows heavier with every breath I take, I can’t give up just yet.
I need to fight through this. I need to keep going, just a little while longer.
Gritting my teeth as the pain soars through my body, I reach farther, my fingers finally grasping the corner of my phone, just enough to be able to pull it back into my chest. The moment I do, my body collapses heavily against the ground.
A sharp ache shoots through me, and I cry out, hot tears still streaming down my face as I shamelessly try to roll onto my back. My breath catches in my throat, and I struggle to push through the pain as my thumb hastily swipes across the screen, only my hands are so blood-soaked that the screen doesn’t recognize my touch.
“COME ON,” I growl through a clenched jaw, trying again and again.
