Obsidian Hearts: I

Eight: Bloody Night

— Sable Rae

I didn't know what I was doing.

This was wrong. This was completely wrong.

I rushed around my house collecting every first aid kit I kept stashed in various places, even the one under my mom's bed. My feet rushed across the floor faster than they ever did to make it back upstairs. I dropped the boxes on the floor of the bathroom, my breathing too wrecked to even let me calm down.

I couldn't. There was a man bleeding out in my tub, falling in and out of consciousness and yet his only concern was how good I look in my shorts.

Paris coughed up more blood wincing in the process. "I-I'm the one stabbed here and yet you look like you're the one about to pass out." He laughs.

"Why're you joking?" I snapped, dumping the contents of the boxes on the floor. "This is serious, y-you're dying and I— I don't know what to do."

I was on the verge of tears. I was covered in his blood from helping him get in the tub and that was bad enough. The only wounds I treat are blisters and small cuts but this was beyond my expertise, I didn't know the first thing about stopping someone from bleeding out.

How was I going to explain to the police that my stalker died in my house? How would that look?!

A hand touched my arm and I felt the blood seep through my shirt. He tried sitting up and I rushed to help. I was halfway in the tub as he held onto me breathing hard. "I don't need you to do anything." He rasped.

He kept saying that. He told me it before I went and got the first aid kits. I whimpered, tears finally falling down my cheeks. "Y-you'll die. You can't die, I can't— no, no, no, I can't do this."

I shook my head wanting nothing more than to pretend this wasn't happening. I felt my throat start to constrict any and all air, an oncoming panic attack waiting to happen. He was dying here, and I'd be at fault. "I can't do this."

"Sable—."

"I can't do this, I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't."

"Fuck, shut up!" He snapped at me, making me close my mouth. My teary eyes stared at him weakly as his fingers pressed hard into my skin. "You don't have to do shit. J-just get me the needle and thread, the alcohol, some goddamn whiskey and shut the fuck up."

Taking shaky breaths I was frozen in place, my entire body stiff as a board. "Now, fuck Sable move!"

Right. I wiped harshly at my face and then grabbed the needle and thread giving it to him. I placed the alcohol close by. Paris ripped the shirt from his body exposing the open wound where he'd been stabbed.

Not wanting to see the rest I leave going to the liquor cabinet in my mother's office. Unlocking it I grab the bottle of whiskey from the shelf hoping she wouldn't tell it was missing. From here I could hear his curses falling off the tongue from pain. The mental picture of him sewing the flesh together flashes in my head and I stop myself from wanting to break down sobbing.

Good thing I never wanted to be a doctor.

Waiting a good twenty minutes before going back up I slowly make my way back into the bathroom. Paris was just now biting the end of the thread.
Tossing the needle on the floor he gripped the bottle of alcohol pouring a large amount over the section he'd sewn closed. Hissing through his teeth his fists turn white from being balled up due to pain.