Page 24 of Fragile hearts

Alexis

The summer morning breeze blows through my hair. Leaves crunch underneath my feet as I sprint through the forest. I didn’t sleep well last night. The lovely dream about Micah and me turned into a nightmare, like it always does when I dream about my brother. It always ends the same, with him dying and me ushered in the ambulance.

I wasn’t lying when I told Carson they have lessened over the years, but that doesn’t mean they have vanished completely. Asher told me he always runs after a nightmare. He claims it helps him relax. Well, for me it will be the first and last time, because I’m never doing this again. I admire people who manage to finish marathons, but it’s nothing for me. I swipe my hand across my forehead, stopping the sweat from seeping into my eyes. God, I hate this.

I have never wheezed so much in my life. I have cramps in places I never felt before.

I’m lost in thought when I hear the sharp sound of tires screeching, then a loud BANG.

I swivel on my feet. A Black SUV has crashed into a tree. The hood of the car is smashed into pieces. Thick white smoke surrounds the crash site.

God, no. Please no. I sprint, my feet pumping hard against the asphalt, my heart hammering in my chest.

Please be alive. Please be alive.

I reach the car. A man is slumped in the driver’s seat. His head leans against the steering wheel. I hold my breath, heart thundering so hard it could beat right out of my chest.

The window is cracked. I place my finger against his neck. Waiting.

Thump…Thump.

I release a relieved breath, grab my phone, and dial 911. Keeping my eyes on him the whole time while the dispatcher talks in my ear.

He doesn’t move an inch. It feels like hours pass by when I hear the sirens, getting louder and louder as the fire truck nears me.

“You’re going to be okay,” I whisper to the injured man.

He doesn’t move an inch. The only signal that he’s alive is his heartbeat, thrumming against my finger. There’s a big gash on his forehead. Blood seeps from it, coating my hands red.

The fire truck stops a few feet away. Several firefighters jump out.

One kneels in front of me. His mouth moves, but I can’t hear him.

My body feels numb, my blood-stained hands shake. The blood is everywhere. Even my fingernails are red.

Get it off me, please get it off me.

Air won’t flow in, I’m scrubbing my hands so hard, the pain seeps through the fog in my head.

But I don’t care about the pain, I need the blood of me.

“Hey—no, don’t do that,” the voice says, but I can’t hear him well. It’s like he’s underwater.

“Come on, Sunshine, breathe.”

Get it off me, get it off me.

The man lowers his face, staring right into my eyes. I can see him clearer now.

Carson.

My neighbor is sitting on his knees in front of me. He yells something over his shoulder, but I can’t hear him. The only thing I’m focused on is the blood. “Off, get it off.” I manage to say past the lump in my throat.

“I will, Sunshine, I promise.” He grabs the pack of wipes his coworker throws him and gently cleans all the blood specks from my skin.

“All done, you’re all clean. Everything is okay.” Air fills my lungs. He holds my hand gently in his. Our fingers interlocked.

I feel the warm pavement underneath me.