Intimate Stranger (Editing)

Chapter 13: Lilah

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Part Thirteen

Saturday, February 13, 2010

The laundry room

Sprawled on the laundry room floor, Lilah forced her eyes open, only to be greeted by a darkness that wasn't comforting in the slightest. She could feel the cold hardwood against her cheek. As she sat up, she groaned, a startling wave of pain engulfing her entire head. She remembered why – Steve hit her with the gun. She wondered why he didn't shoot her like he did to Trace.

Oh God, Trace. Remembering what happened to her brother, Lilah stood up quickly, but received a head rush and had to stand still for a moment to let it pass. She stepped forward slowly, approaching the door, where she could see light peeking through the cracks. Her hands found the wall by the door and she felt around for the light switch.

She gasped, "aha" when her finger came in contact with the switch. She flicked it, bathing the entire (small) room in blinding light. Lilah blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the sudden fluorescence.

When she could see properly, her eyes doubled in size when she looked down and saw Trace's unconscious body. Frantically, she crumpled onto her knees beside his body. He lay on his right side, with the gun shot wound pressed painfully against the floor. "Trace?" She croaked, hoping to find evidence of life.

Slowly she rolled him over so that his gruesome wound was in full view. Lilah gasped at the sight of it. It was directly above his hip bone. Lilah couldn't tell if he was just grazed or if the bullet was lodged inside him somewhere. She gagged at the thought. She knocked over a near by laundry basket full of clothes, and grabbed some articles of clothing to prop his head up. She opened his mouth to make sure his tongue wasn't obstructing his airway. Luckily, she knew what to do in case of a traumatic injury because she learned how to treat them in health class. She pressed her finger to his neck and felt a pulse. Lilah didn't want to think what would have happened to Trace if Lilah wasn't there to help him.

Briskly, she stood up to scan the room for something she could use to stop the bleeding. But in mid-step, she heard something. She hoped her ears weren't deceiving her, but she thought she heard Trace groan in pain.

She knelt beside him again, but not before snatching a towel that she spotted on top of the dryer.

"Trace? Can you hear me? It's Lilah," she sputtered, pressing the towel to the wound. It was immediately soaked in red liquid.

Then his eye began to switch and suddenly he was looking at her and wincing. "Lilah?"

She grinned, "Yeah."

"What happened?"

Relieved that he was conscious, she said, "You jumped in the path of the bullet. You were shot,"she paused. "I wanted Steve to think you were dead."

"You... what?" The look on his face was one of shock and confusion.

"I checked your pulse after he shot you and said you were dead," she explained. He started to say something and she cut him off. Still pressing the towel to the wound, she said, "Move your hands and feet for me, Trace."

"Why...?" He seemed slightly disoriented still.

"Just do it," she barked, still with a comforting tone to her voice. Sure enough, Lilah stared as Trace twitched his fingers on both hands. He then cringed in pain as he shifted both his legs. "Good," Lilah declared. "No spinal cord damage."