Page 154 of Endless Anger
I reach up, pushing a finger through a small hole in the shoulder of my sweater, and use every ounce of strength I can muster to tear the sleeve from my arm. Still, as I sit closer to Willa and look her over, I realize her injuries are even worse than I initially thought.
Aside from the gruesome incision connecting her privates, her guts are spilling out of a hole in her side. Her left eye is swollen shut, possibly even missing, and there are several stab wounds decorating her right leg.
Frankly, I don’t know how she’s alive at all right now.
Carefully, I take the torn sweater piece and slide it beneath her thigh, tying tight above one of the wounds to stop the bleeding. Her injuries must be fresh; otherwise, I can’t imagine how she’s hanging on.
Her right eye looks up at me when she feels me touching her, and she coughs into the ground. “Lucy, don’t?—”
The words arebarelyaudible.
I shake my head, leaning in to whisper, “I’m going to get you out of here, okay? Don’t worry.”
My chest tightens as I glance at her bottom, wondering how the fuck I’m supposed to bandage her enough to keep that promise.
A small amount of vomit my mouth as anxiety pushes it up, but I swallow, ignoring the urge to gag.
Turning slightly, I look at Foxe. He’s watching us, his own eyes swollen, his nose fully disfigured. “If we can patch her up enough, it might be possible to move her. Do you think you could shoulder some of her weight? I can grab her legs, and you get beneath her arms.”
Foxe nods once, his gaze dropping to his lap. He looks fucking exhausted, and I’m trying not to let panic set in, but its claws scratch at the chamber of my heart, begging to be set free.
Foxe is a safety net—always has been. He doesn’t take things seriously or frown or experience grim emotions the way others do. I mean, there’ve been times when I thought something was bothering him, but this is different.
Right now, I hardly recognize him.
Doesn’t matter, Lucy. Focus on getting the three of you out, and then you can deal with his issues later.
This is allmyfault anyway. If I hadn’t invited him to the party, begged Willa and Eli to come, or ignored Asher telling me to stay away from Beckett, none of this would have happened.
Whether a savior complex or sheer stupidity, I’m the reason for all of it.
Well, me and Cronus Anderson. The fucker.
44
LUCY
I take off my sweater,leaving myself in only a thin black tank top, and attempt to apply pressure to Willa’s wounds.
To be honest, I’m not really sure what else to do—Asher’s dad is the retired doctor, and I never really had much reason to learn how to treat traumatic injuries like these. Most of Asher’s were relegated to bloody noses and the occasional puncture, but this is almost inconceivable.
Her insides arehanging out. When I tell her I’m going to try and stop the bleeding between her legs, I push down on the area, unable to avert my gaze from the gaping hole in her side.
How the fuck do you fix that? Do they go back in the way they came out, or will touching them rupture something?
I can’t just fucking leave her here though. Even considering it makes me want to vomit.
She’d die here,alone.
Just like Celeste did, surrounded by horrible people.
No. I will not do this again. I will not be helpless and useless a second time.
My throat constricts, emotion clogging the airway, and I ball my hands into fists to get a hold of myself. I’m slowly losing my grip on sanity, and right now, none of us can afford that.
“Lucy,” Willa chokes out through the side of her mouth, smashed against the ground. “Stop. You need…to go.”
I frown. “Don’t tell me what I need to do, Willa.Itellyouwhat to do, remember? I’m your boss.”
