Page 73 of Uprising

“Oh, thank you, Jesus,” I mutter under my breath. Grabbing the kit, I run to the kitchen, opening nearly every cabinet. Who doesn’t have liquor in their house?

Panic claws at my throat as I tear apart the kitchen trying to find anything that would clean his wound. Tears slip down my face, causing my vision to blur.

I’m so stupid. It’s all my fault. If I hadn't left Reed in the first place, none of this would be happening. Jake and Molly, their family wouldn’t have been killed. Reed wouldn’t be bleeding out on the couch. It’s me. I’m the problem.

“Where is the fucking alcohol?” I mumble out loud. My voice breaks, emotions getting the better part of me. I hate it. I hate that I’m weak. Leaning back against the counter, my gaze scans over the cabinets as if I would have missed something.

Freezer.

Of course!

I rip the freezer open; the stench of moldy food hits me, but a bottle of whiskey is sitting there on the shelf. I gag, bile rising in my throat as I grab the bottle and race back to the living room.

I stop in my tracks; Reed sits there with his head leaning back against the couch. My heart drops to my stomach.

“Reed?” I whisper. The world blurs; everything around me muffles as if I had been plunged underwater. I drop to my knees beside him, my hands hovering over his still body, afraid to touch him. My eyes scan his chest, waiting for it to rise. His lips are too pale, blood spreading over his side onto the couch.

“No, no, no,” I whisper, shaking my head, denying reality itself. This can’t be happening. Terror clamps around my throat, tightening until I can’t breathe. He can’t be gone. He can’t be. Not him, not Reed. I didn’t get the chance to get to know the real him. I didn’t get the chance to tell him I love him. Because I do. I love Reed, and now I’m never going to get the chance.

Tears fall, vision blurring as I shake my head. My mind claws for the memories of us—the sound of him laughing when I said something stupid. The way he rolled his eyes when I would spit random facts out. I didn’t have enough time.

We didn’t have enough time.

He takes in a ragged breath, “Took you long enough.”

I choke on a sob, breaking out in a smile.

“You scared me! I thought you were dead!” My mind barely processes that he’s actually alive before I smack my hand down on his leg.

“OW, fuck!” Reed slams his eyes shut.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, so, so, sorry.”

Reed slowly opens his eyes, a small tug of his lips.He’s smirking at me.Of course he’s smirking at me.

“Okay, now, you need to stop the bleeding.” I nod along, reaching inside the medical kit. I pull out a bunch of gauze, ripping them open. Pressing the once-white material against his side. Reed grits his teeth, a hiss escaping from his mouth.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

I keep a firm grip on the gauze, pressing tightly. Reed takes a frayed breath, shaky and pained. After what feels like forever, the blood slows; only a small patch on the gauze sits behind.

“Use the alcohol and pour some over it; quickly press more gauze to the wound and put tape on the edges.”

With shaky hands I grab the bottle and hold it over his side. It feels wrong to be pouring alcohol out like this. Back in my day it would be called alcohol abuse, and Mallory would kick my ass for this.

“No worries, take your time,” Reed mumbles.

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic, but that’s fine,” I start rambling, slowly pouring the liquid over his side. “You know I’m still mad at you. You let me leave, and I-I just don’t understand. Don’t get me wrong; I shouldn't have left. But I–I—you, don’t keep secrets from me. I don’t like it. My parents, you see, my parents were always keeping secrets from me. Always hiding something, and I hate it. Honesty is the best policy, and I live by that now. So maybe moving forward we—we should be honest with each other.” I stop pouring the liquid, quickly placing more gauze against the wound. Reed hisses, his muscles tensing.

“I know, I’m sorry,” I mumble, tapping the gauze to his side. Sitting back, I sigh in relief that it’s over.

“Help me up; we need to get some rest.” Reed doesn't have to tell me twice. Climbing to my feet, I hold my hand out, pulling him to his feet.

“We should get you cleaned up.”

“Tomorrow, we need to get some sleep.”

Nodding, I wrap an arm around his waist, being mindful of his side. Slowly we move through the house to the back room. Closing the door behind us, I help Reed to the bed.

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