Give Me Courage (Give Me Series #4)

38 - Bullet

TW: Blood

The plastic bag obnoxiously crinkled in the backseat when Aiden shoved a handful of blood soaked napkins from various fast food restaurants accumulated over the past month inside of it. The extra shirts were placed on my lap after I grabbed them out of the second bag and carelessly tossed the plastic at Isaac in the driver's seat.

His head snapped up when the bag flew in front of his face, blocking his vision from his phone in hand. He shot an annoyed look at me as he snatched the plastic bag out of the air with his right hand. He handed the bag back to Aiden.

"Thank you for that," Isaac replied, sarcasm heavily laced in his voice.

"You're welcome," I hummed in response, matching his tone. "Now, I strongly suggest you close your eyes if you don't want to see me in my bra."

Isaac shifted his phone into his left hand before he gingerly placed his right hand over his closed eyes, head leaned back against the seat. Aiden dropped his eyes to the floor with his head tilted down, respectfully.

My eyes scanned over the areas surrounding our car in the hospital parking lot before I peeled the bloodstained shirt from my upper torso, grimacing at the remaining achy pain in my shoulder as it rapidly worked to heal itself.

The bullet was wrapped in several napkins, discarded in the bag held in Aiden's hand after he dug it out of my shoulder with Isaac's assistance, parked down an empty dirt road. Aiden took it upon himself to carry my bleeding and unconscious body out of the Sheriff's Station without being detected by the other deputies, knowing questions would be asked if anyone knew I was shot and magically healed within a few hours.

My brother covered my mouth with his hand when I abruptly woke up in the middle of the unsanitary bullet extraction. Screams of pure agony muffled against his palm while large teardrops poured out of my eyes from Aiden's sharp claws searching for the bullet in my arm.

Black veins scaled up Isaac's arms through the entire process, frustrated by his inability to take all of the pain away. The three of us were thoroughly exhausted for our own reasons once Aiden yanked the bullet out of my shoulder with his hands covered in my blood.

Isaac drove to the hospital shortly after the extraction while Aiden worked from the backseat to dispose of the bloody napkins. The hospital visit wasn't for me, but for Mr. Stilinski, who surely already arrived by the paramedics.

Aiden mentioned how Stiles stayed behind with his father— which I completely understood— and remained stuck in a state of pure shock, incapable of processing his girlfriend and father were shot within the span of a couple minutes.

My heart ached for my boyfriend and the wild range of emotions he found himself experiencing during the chaos. My friends were concerned for my wellbeing, yet everyone knew I wasn't the main person to worry about. I would heal within the day. Mr. Stilinski wouldn't share the same fate due to being human.

The hospital would admit him for a few days after he recovered from his inevitable surgery to remove the bullet.

"Here."

The shirt migrated out of my hands and into Aiden's hands for him to discard in the bag. There was no amount of bleach or peroxide in the world capable of saving the material from the blood soaked through.

His eyes remained on the floor of the backseat while his hand outstretched for the shirt, easily grabbed it without lifting his gaze. A gasp pulled between my teeth when the pain tripled from the movement in my body to pull the new shirt over my upper torso.