Miranda [Watty Awards 2013]

Chapter 26

I was startled awake by the sound of crying, a loud wailing right in my ear.

            Shooting up in bed, I fought to free my arm from the covers, looking around wildly for the source. I was too groggy and dazed to realize it was Lacy, and as I ripped the blanket away, I was met with a horrible sight.

            Blood, covering her face and arms, soaking the sheets bright red.

            I was frozen, unable to move, eyes wide. Jack barged into the room, having been somewhere else in the house, panting as he ran to the side of the bed.

            “What happened?!” he yelled, and was met with the same sight as me. “Oh, God.”

            Oh God was right. Moving quickly and purely on instinct, I scooped her up and hurried into the bathroom, turning on the shower and stepping in with her. I needed to get the blood off. That was the only way that I could see what was wrong.

            My clothes began to stick to my skin, but I didn’t care. Telling Jack to hand me a washcloth, he tossed me the closest one, and I could see his hands shaking.

            Dabbing gently away at her cheeks, she screamed away, fighting to get out of my arms. Sitting down right there, I tightened my grip on her, even though I was sobbing myself. My heart was racing so fast I thought I might actually pass out. It was even hard to simply keep the cloth in my hand.

            “No!” she shrieked. “NO!”

            “I know, baby, I know,” I tried, but she wasn’t buying it. “I’m going to help you! Calm down so I can help you!”

            Slowly she cleared up, the red water turning pink and then cleared up altogether. I felt my heart freeze all over again as I assessed the damage: scratch marks across her face, trailing down her neck, picking at a rash that was no longer there.

            What could’ve made her scratch that hard?

            Jack came back into the bathroom, carrying a large white box. I jumped when I saw him; I hadn’t noticed he had gone. Sitting the box down on the floor, he clicked it open and rummaged around inside, tossing out boxes of Band-Aids and rolls of medical tape.

            “I found a first-aid kit in the downstairs bathroom,” he said, voice wavering. Looking up at me with large eyes, I nodded to let him know that he had done the right thing.

            Shutting off the water, I crawled out of the shower, slopping water all over the floor. Jack grabbed a towel and handed it to me, and I started drying off Lacy with it. She came first; not me.

            “Is there any gauze in there?” I asked, voice breaking from worry. Some of the scratches were still oozing crimson.

            “Y-yeah,” Jack stuttered, fumbling to get it. I took it from his hands, ripping open one of the packets and pulling out the white mesh.

            Pressing it softly to her cheeks, I held it there as lightly as I could, feeling my heart break every time she screamed. But if the bleeding didn’t stop, she might not be able to scream at all. I would not take that chance.

            I nodded to the pile of gauze packets in Jack’s lap. “Help me. Get the other side.”

            He didn’t hesitate, and I was thankful for that. He pressed his square of gauze to her other cheek, folding it out once so that it spread to cover the wounds on her neck as well. The child writhed in our arms, yelling for us to stop, yelling that it hurt.