Page 16 of Owen

I got no response when I slapped his cheeks.

I leaned down then, my ear against his chest. His heart was beating, and it seemed like a normal rhythm, and his chest rose and fell as he breathed. Thank God for that.

But he was still unconscious, and now there was blood running down the back of his head where it had smacked against stone.

“Damn it,” I groaned.

That familiar feeling was starting to spread through my chest again, the way it had when I was getting closer to the cave. Panic.

“Don’t do this. Don’t do this.” I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to take deep breaths before I lost it. I couldn’t lose it. There was no time to lose it. He needed me, and he had been there when I needed him. “Come on, Molly. Get it together.”

I called on some old yoga training from back in my younger days. Inhale for four, hold it for four, then exhale. I did this once. Twice. Counting slowly all the while.

Knowing Owen needed me, that he might have hurt himself badly. That he might…

“One… two… three… four…” I counted in my head, forcing those dark thoughts aside. I couldn’t focus on them. I couldn’t let them overtake me. It would be the biggest mistake I could make.

Once breathing was a little easier, I opened my eyes again. There he was, still unconscious.

“What am I supposed to do with you?” I whispered, looking around.

He was huge, for one thing. There was no moving him. Not that I had anywhere to take him.

His friends were somewhere further up the mountain, but even if I knew where they were, I couldn’t have dragged him if I tried. I couldn’t leave him to go looking for them, either.

Maybe it was a matter of waiting it out. But what if he’d cracked his skull or something? There was no way of knowing.

“Damn it, Owen!” I whispered, holding his face again. “What am I gonna do with you?”

He didn’t offer any suggestions.

“Thanks for nothing,” I muttered before reaching for a water bottle. Maybe if I could get a look at his head, I could tell if it was serious or just a scalp wound.

But that would mean using my flashlight, which I guessed I could hold in my mouth as I washed his wound. And it would mean rolling him over, which couldn’t be easy. Not when he was around the size of a tank.

Working on my hands and knees, I managed to straighten him out from the “L” shape he’d fallen in. That alone left me out of breath, and I had to take a break for a minute before I could even think about doing more.

I pulled out my flashlight and kept a bottle of water at my side.

“Okay, hot stuff,” I whispered, looking him up and down. “We’re about to get a little closer. I hope you don’t mind.”

He was on his back, in front of me.

I took his left arm, the one furthest away, and leaned back with all my might. “Come on!” I groaned, pulling. “Roll over!”

He finally did, and I propped him against me with his face on my thighs. I tried to ignore the proximity to other parts of my anatomy in favor of holding the flashlight between my teeth and training it on the back of his head.

“Oof,” I muttered, the sound coming out garbled thanks to the flashlight.

His dark hair was even darker thanks to the blood which matted it down. I winced at the sight of it, then poured a thin stream of water over it and leaned closer. From what I could see, it was pretty superficial, but what did I know?

I reached into my pack and fished out the First Aid kit Dad had always drilled the importance of into my head.

“Thanks, Dad,” I whispered to myself as I pulled out a pair of gloves, alcohol wipes, and gauze.

The only thing missing from it was the bandage I could’ve used to wrap my ankle. Of all the things to forget to bring.

But it would help him, and that mattered more to me just then. I couldn’t imagine why. His life seemed very important. The most important thing in the world, in fact.

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