“Thank god you are awake,” I replied, stroking his hair.
“What… is… he doing… here?” he croaked out, clearly in a lot of pain.
“He is helping you stay alive, Fyodor. What else?”
Avgust brought the sharp metal object closer to the wound on Fyodor’s chest, and I immediately understood what he was planning to do. He was going to extract the bullet from Fyodor’s body through the object. It was becoming impossible for me to watch, but I felt as if I did not have a choice.
“Hold still,” Avgust said, voice low, controlled.
Fyodor let out a sharp breath. “You… don’t get to… order me… around.”
Avgust didn’t even look at him. His focus was absolute, his hands steady as he worked. The sharp object entered slowly through the open wound while Fyodor held onto the bed sides for dear life. It broke my heart to see him in this much pain.
“If you move, you will bleed out. As much as I don’t mind your death, Ilana does. And I am only doing this for her,” Avgust replied, his eyes still focused sharply on the wound before him.
“Get back, Ilana,” Fyodor said through gritted teeth.
“I am staying. I am sure I can handle it,” I replied with a determination I did not even know I possessed.
“You don’t have to watch, Ilana,” Avgust chimed in, his gaze heavy on me.
“It’s fine. I have to.”
It took a few minutes for Avgust to find the bullet inside the wound, but just as I was beginning to lose hope, he started pulling out the metal object from inside my brother’s body, and a bullet came right out with it. I was still confused how Avgust had managed to do that, but my heart flooded with relief at the sight of the bullet. It came out with a dull clink against metal.
Fyodor hissed, then sagged, breath shuddering. Now that the bullet was out, the wound could easily be closed. Fyodor was being completely silent, clearly trying to handle the pain.
“The bullet is out, Fyodor,” I whispered, and he finally opened his eyes, relief flooding through his expression.
I met Avgust’s eyes, only for a second, and found him looking at me already. Everything passed between us during those few minutes. From fear to trust to anger to relief. The question neither of us dared to ask was what happened after this, but right now was not the time for it. My brother lay between us with a gaping hole in his chest.
As if reading my mind, Avgust moved back towards the first-aid box and handed me the tools to stitch the wound shut. I shook my head, knowing I would not be able to do something like that to my own brother, but Avgust handed it to me anyway.
“You have to do it, Ilana,” he nodded, his confidence in me filling me with a newfound hope.
“Alright.”
I moved towards Fyodor, the needle sharp in my hand.
“Just three stitches will be more than enough,” Avgust instructed, and I nodded.
“I am sorry if this hurts, Fyodor,” I whispered, dreading the idea of having to stitch flesh closed.
“Just get it over with,” Fyodor replied.
“The good thing is, no ribs are broken, and no vital organs are harmed. You will be fine,” Avgust added, dabbing cotton with antiseptic.
I stopped delaying the whole thing and went to work with precise focus. It was not easy, but Fyodor was unusually still, and going through with the stitches was easy. It only took me less than five minutes to close the wound, and as soon as I was done, Avgust wiped away the blood and dabbed everything with antiseptic before bandaging the wound. I could already tell he had done this a thousand times before, probably even on himself and on his own brothers or men.
“It’s done,” Avgust announced, moving away.
As soon as everything was done, a heavy silence fell all around us. I helped Fyodor sit down at the table, his body beginning to adjust to the intensity of the pain. Color was already returning to his face, indicating that he was beginning to get better. That was all I wanted. I was not going to sit here and let him die on my watch.
“Let’s go home, Ilana,” Fyodor said as soon as he stood up, but I quickly shook my head.
“You should go home and rest. I am not going anywhere with you,” I replied firmly, not allowing my brother to boss me around yet again.
Before I even realized what was happening, Fyodor ducked down with an agility that was surprising for someone who had just been shot and managed to snatch the gun from Avgust’s holster. His hands moved fast. Too fast. One second, Avgust was only stepping back, but the very next second, Fyodor had the gun in his hand, arm extended, muzzle aimed straight at Avgust’s chest.
