Page 100 of Brambles and Bellflowers
There was so much blood. There was no way he survived this.
What would the others say? I’d killed him. All because I’d been trying to be nice. I would never be nice again.
If I ever returned to civilization, I would resume classes with Finn. I would do anything to understand my new power and save the lives of the remaining boys.
I would be sure to carry on Miles’s legacy and make sure everyone ate well.
“Goddamn it.” Miles rolled onto his back and clutched his thigh. “Fuck my life!”
He was alive!
“Miles!” I covered my mouth, choking in relief. “Are you okay?”
“Damn it!” he cursed as he gingerly moved to his butt.
“You’re cursing in English again.” I scooted toward him, trying to keep my voice calm. “You only do that when you’re really upset.” I twisted my hands in front of me, longing to reach out but afraid of making his pain even worse.
He had opened his mouth—probably to curse some more—but then his attention snapped to me, and he pursed his lips. “I didn’t realize. I’m just really messed up right now.” He glared at his leg. “None of this is your fault,” he emphasized. “It’s because of myfucking guides.”
What in the world did that mean?
I glanced toward his leg. “Can I see?”
He leveled a wary gaze in my direction. “Are you a secret expert in first aid?”
My heart began to race, and my vision blurred as I bit my lip. I had to keep my focus on his wound.
“Not really…” I muttered and pulled the bottom of my shirt away from my stomach. “It was never important formeto know that sort of thing.”
No, I had a different role.
“Bianca—”
A touch brushed against my arm, and I jumped, blinking, and stared at Miles. He’d sat up straighter, focused on me with concern thick in his gaze. “Mon rêve, where were you?”
I sucked in a breath. “N-nowhere.” My voice sounded strangely high-pitched, even to myself. “I’m here. Let me—” I tugged at the hem of my shirt.
“Don’t use your clothes,” he said, reaching around as he tugged at the blanket. “We can use this. I’m only cut—we only need to stop the bleeding. It shouldn’t be too deep.”
“Okay…” I rushed to obey. The knife had landed on the ground beside him, and I grabbed it. I returned to his side, turned my attention back to his thigh, and bit my lip as I checked out the wound.
Not too deep, my butt. Still…
“I don’t think you’ll need a tourniquet.” I pursed my lips. But he would lose half those pants. They were practically shredded past the knee.
“Do you know how to make a tourniquet?” Miles asked, sweat beginning to break out over his brow. “Did they make one for you when…” His voice trailed off, his vision lowering to my hips.
“No,” I replied. I turned my attention to my task and began cutting cloth strips.
“My injury was too high for that,” I continued, stacking the fabric neatly beside me. Once the pile was big enough, I returned my attention to Miles. I bit my lip, gathering my courage, as I pressed my palm to his stomach and looked into his face.
“Don’t move,” I warned him. “I’m going to cut off your pants now.”
“You’re sexy when you’re bossy,” Miles muttered in response, throwing me a lopsided grin.
Wonderful. He was already becoming delusional. I’d better hurry up.
Before he could utter more nonsense, I hooked my finger in the ripped fabric over his wound and slipped the knife in, sawing through the ruined camo. When it was apparent I could finish the job with my hands, I put the knife back on the ground and pulled the tear apart.
