Tears track down my cheeks. No phone. No ambulance. No reason in his actions.
His turquoise eyes meet mine, bloodshot. He misses the knife. Tries again, using his teeth to pull it from the sheath.
Before I can protest, he slices deep above the cluster of puncture wounds, letting out a deep-throated scream. Then his head dips, latching onto the laceration. He sucks between fits of pain, spitting into the sagebrush next to us.
My bottom lip trembles, whole body quaking. I look up, saying a silent prayer. Above me, a lone raven circles, its shadow scraping the ground between us.
“Better.” The word comes out all wrong.
The flesh around the bites is already darkening—angry.
Not just bruised.
Rotting.
My stomach twists, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. I fight through sobs, trying to keep it together. My hands fumble, loosening the belt. Then removing it.
He reaches for the whiskey bottle. Misses.
The last thing he needs. But how can I deny him when the entire world is falling apart?
Sniffling and crying, I cradle his head, bringing the bottle to his blood-soaked lips. His hand grabs mine, sorrow behind his eyes. “Don’t know the last time… someone cared.”
That breaks me.
I bite my bottom lip, fighting the urge to scream or wail. Everything has slowed down now. Everything feels…over.
He lies back against a thicket of scrub brush and sage, his face glistening with sweat. His cheeks are wet with tears and dust. Shadows grow long, passing across him like a heavy pall.
I fight a sob, helpless…
“What do I do?” I whimper.
His eyes burn into me, whites red and bulging. “Don’t cry. Not for me.”
Now, I’m wrecked, wiping my nose with my sleeve. Unable to talk.
“Shh.” He winces. “You deserve better.” His voice falls away, his eyelids drooping closed.
I hold my breath, hand coming to his chest, waiting for him to breathe.
He doesn’t.
Neither do I.
I go dizzy, vision darkening at the edges. Until I gasp for air. Still, he doesn’t move.
Not an inch.
His pulse stutters… too fast, like it’s tripping over itself. Then, finally, he gasps, breath rattling in his chest.
“Don’t. Leave,” he whispers.
I breathe through my mouth, trying to speak. “Never. But we have to get help.”
He shakes his head, pulse fluttering at his neck.
“What then?” It comes out ragged.
