Flawless

Flawless [10]

10.

I bent down to help the man as he worked over her chest; I was scared and panicked my heart beating frantically when I couldn’t hear hers.

“Somebody call an ambulance!” I shouted, looking around at the grave faces.

“They’re on their way dear,” one lady said, a cell phone pressed against her ear, she continued to recite Poets condition to the operator on the other end of the line “She doesn’t appear to be breathing at all.” she said.

The rain started to pick up again and, beating down hard into the exposed alley, a few people, the ones that were merely spectating rather than helping started to run out the alley for cover.

“Poet!” I said, frantically I lifted her head and propped it up underneath my knees. Continuing to listen to it fail to pick up the rhythm set by the gentlemen. ”Poet,” I said again, my breath coming up short. My phone vibrated in the pocket of my jeans, but I ignored it.

The man started to join in saying Poet’s name, as he pressed two of his fingers again her neck in search of some kind of response. He continued to work over his chest, a few more people left as the rain became heavier.

I moved my finger through her hair, in a soothing manner, searching to the root of this. What had happened to her?

I was stumped in that short period of time. What had he done to her to cause such travesty? To cause her heart to suddenly give out.

No sooner than I was asking myself the questions were I answering them. Thinking out the situation in full. If he thought I was her than it would be only natural for him to deal with her the same way he did with me. He must have tasered her. If the amount of volt in his taser had caused me to become completely paralysed then there’s no saying what major effects it had on her body besides the obvious at the current time.

In the distance, I heard the sound of the ambulances sires, but new they were still a few blocks away.

I was almost a little bit elated that the man working on her chest seemed to know what he was doing, more so that he didn’t seem to be giving up.

“Come on, Poet,” I whispered. Trying to keep myself from freaking out, I focused my eyes on one of the freckles by her nose.

The man started to press his hands down on her significantly harder and faster.

There it was, faint, almost drowned out by the sound of the ambulance that could only have been a block or two away. Her heart, I could hear that it was started to pick up the beat being set for it. It was still weak but it was working.

I moved two of my fingers down and pressed it against her neck, I let out a long sigh of relief as I felt a pulse picking up. “That’s good, keep going, its working, her heart is picking it up.”

It increased. Until, finally, her heart started on its own again.

Poets back arched and her chest rose into the air and she took in a long sharp breath of fresh air. Her mouth gapped open and a hoarse scratchy sound stuck in her throat.

As her head rested down in my lap again her eyes fluttered open as she took in another sharp breath. The ambulance was just down the street by now.

“Poet!” I exclaimed, brushing her hair out of face, her eye lashes fluttered against the rain, squeezed together then opened again. They unfocused then focused back in, her eyes shifting up to me, her mouth opened as she tried to speak, but she couldn’t.

“Shh…” I calmed her as I heard the ambulance pull to stop out the front. The man who had been working over her chest slumped down on concrete, she moved his hand over his forehead with relief.  “Thank-you,” I said to him when I caught him looking at me.