Entwined

The pavement met me half-way, and blood oozed out in rivets, like rusty screws being turned loose.

“ARGH!” I cried, clutching my stomach as the lightning strikes of pain threw my vision askew.

“Robyn?” My best friend, Elise, looked up from her phone, and ran to my side.

“Oh God, Robyn, not again,” Elise fumbled with her phone, while taking off her jacket and pressing it against the bleed.

                Finally, it rang through. Blackness started to seep into my peripheral vision.

“Hello?” Elise bit her lip, “yes, I need an ambulance. Second Avenue, East Clarion. My friend, she’s bleeding....No I don’t know why. I never know why. No one knows why! Just send someone, and fast.”

“It’ll be okay, Robyn, just hang on.”

                Elise pressed her wadded up jacket tighter, the white cotton blossomed with red.

It was happening again, and no one knew why. I was just walking down the street, and now I’m fighting for my life?

No, it’s not right. It’s not possible...

                The ambulance arrived ten minutes later. Elise had pulled me into a sitting position, and I breathed through the pain. After years of going through this crap, I was surprised my tolerance wasn’t better. 

“What happened?” The paramedics hopped out of the front, their bags slapping against their thighs and a look of concern of their faces.

“She just...fell over. There’s blood. There’s a lot of blood.” Elise grew pale and shaky. She never was a fan of blood, but I was her best friend. Loyalty trumps nausea everyday of the week.

“Miss, what happened?”

“Nothing.” I grunted through gritted teeth. Always the same questions. Never any damn answers.'

''I’m going to look at the wound.” The taller paramedic said. His hair was slightly greying, his face was long, as was his nose, but his eyes were kind. I like kind eyes.

                After pulling Elise’s blood sodden jacket from my stomach—which I would pay her for as soon as possible—he pulled at the hem of my dark, rolling stones tee, which was growing darker by the second, and hitched a breath.

“Trent,” he said. “Start the engine.” The squat, heavy-set paramedic jumped up and raced for the door, but was puzzled. The taller one helped me up, placing pressure on my stomach and spoke into his intercom.

“Assistance required. Available units please answer...” there was a buzzing. “yes, we’re bringing her in now.”

“Miss, you’ll have to come with us.”

                I was growing weaker, so I nodded, but couldn’t help but feel this was crazy. The pain hadn’t lessened. In fact, it had gotten much worse.

“You’ll have to come too, miss.” He told Elise, pointing her toward the back of the ambulance, while pulling open its doors and laying me out on the gurney.

“Okay,” Elise hopped in the back and sat on the bench opposite, while the paramedic took my hand and told me to squeeze away the pain, while applying more pressure on the bleed.

                We raced to the hospital, sirens blaring in my ears, the trip equal parts bumpy and exhausting. My eyelids grew heavier, and the paramedic told me to stay awake. I heard Elise’s faint sniffles and shocked gasps at his questions.

“NO!” she flat out adamantly denied, but the ringing in my ears was growing too loud for me to keep track of the conversations around me.

“Look,” the paramedic said in a soothing tone. “Maybe you got in a fight, maybe it wasn’t you...but if your protecting someone, just stop, because it’s not helping your case and it’s certainly not helping...”

“Robyn,” Elise said. “Her name is Robyn. And no, I did not stab her!”

“Well, someone did.”

Funny thing is, they didn’t. No one did. Nothing happened. But I was paying the price for it.

“Her blood pressures dropping..her O-sats are slipping...step on it Trent.”

                I don’t remember arriving, but next thing I know, nameless faces are surrounding me and I’m carted down the hall as more medical terms swim around my ears and fluorescent lights assault my vision.

“Female, 18, Robyn Matthews, suffered stab wound to the lower abdomen. Bleeding on site. Prepping O.R. as we speak.” One of the faces turns to me, seeing me blink as a oxygen mask is pressed against my face. “It’s going to be okay, sweetie, just hold on.”

I nod. I know it will. After all, it’s not like this is the first, or the worst, thing to happen to me.

After being in an unprecedented, inexplicable coma for three months last year, you learn a few things.

One of them being, it’s hard to keep a tough girl down.

 What doesn’t kill me, makes me stronger....right?