Shock

-5-

"Grace?"
DS started shaking her by her shoulders and begging her to wake up.
I scoured my mind for what to do.
Time it. I thought.
If a person is unconscious for less than a minute, they're probably gonna be fine. If more...
I pressed the small blue button on my watch, then proceeded to kneel next to her.
I motioned for DS to stop shaking her and checked her pulse. Relief washed over me as I felt her heartbeat. I let go of her wrist and checked for injuries.
"Oh, god..."
A shard of glass the size of a mango was lodged into the woman's thigh. Her dress was torn around it, slightly fraying at the edges. A scarlet stain covered the wound.
The boy that had come to help us lift the jukebox had noticed it as well.
"Please tell me you know how to treat that," he said.
I hesitated. I knew a bit about injury treatment, thanks to a first aid course I had taken when I was fourteen. But I had never put my knowledge into practice, and I was nervous about doing so now.
I struggled to remember the drill for cuts and lacerations. Had we ever covered what to do during an earthquake? Probably not.
I did know we couldn't move her. I made sure to tell the boys before they tried carrying her somewhere.
"Can you get me a first aid kit?" I added. I vaguely remembered seeing one in the kitchen once. They both nodded and disappeared.
Meanwhile, Peter had noticed our distress.
"Is she going to be okay?" He asked.
I nodded, then shook my head.
"I don't know," I admitted.
He looked down at his friend's mother.
"You know what?" I suggested, "Why don't you go find Haley and keep her company 'till her mum wakes up."
He mumbled okay and got up.
I turned back to Mrs. Stratford and tried to come up with a game plan.
I would have to disinfect the wound, get the glass out and stop the bleeding. After that I would figure out what to do next. I looked at my watch. One minute and twelve seconds. Crap.
What if she had a concussion? Or a spinal cord injury? Just as I was starting to panic, the two boys came back with the first aid kit. I opened it and examined its contents. Band-aids, rubbing alcohol, tweezers, cotton balls, sterile bandages and more were nestled inside the little white box. I found a pair of disposable gloves and slipped them on. Then, I took a few cotton balls, drenched them in rubbing alcohol and started dabbing around the wound.
Soon there was no more blood or dirt to be seen. I went on to removing the glass. With one hand, I steadied the leg, with the other I grabbed hold of the glass shard. As gentle as possible, I pulled out the intruder. I dabbed some more rubbing alcohol on the cut, then grabbed a sterile bandage and stuck it on. Upon further examination, I noticed a few smaller pieces of glass in her arms and legs. I used tweezers to get them out and disinfected the cuts. By the time I was done, my watch told me it had been eleven minutes since mrs. Stratford had lost consciousness. Everyone was still sitting on the floor. They were talking, playing games on their phones, I even noticed a group of twenty-somethings who had pulled out a deck of cards and were now playing poker.
Somewhere in the middle of me removing glass and disinfecting wounds, DS had sat down next to me. He looked spooked, lips pressed together, pale skin, eyes darting around nervously. Squeamish for blood, I guess.
"Where's your friend?"
He nodded to the group of poker players. I looked closer now and saw he was right. The boy that had helped us earlier was sitting amongst the college-aged kids, studying his deck of cards.
"So what's next?" DS asked.
I didn't know. I felt the muscles of my hand contract as my fingers dug into my palm and the terrifying realization hit me.
I had no idea what would happen next. Mrs. Stratford had been unconscious for so long, I was beginning to fear serious internal injuries.
And the twenty or so kids, including my brother and mrs. Stratford's daughter, were now without supervision.
I felt my heart rate speed up as my respiration became irregular.
"I-" I managed, "I don't-"
"It's okay," DS interrupted.
He put his hand on mine. I took a deep breath and unclenched my fists.
"Thanks,"
I wanted to say more, but before I got the chance to do so, shouts sounded from the poker table.
We both turned our head, just in time to see a tall, raven-haired guy getting punched in the jaw by a slightly shorter, but more muscular redhead.
"Stay here," I ordered DS, not taking my eyes off the two troublemakers. I didn't wait for his response.
Crossing the room, I elbowed my way through the small crowd that had begun to form around them.
Just as I reached the fight, a second punch was thrown, this time by the tall guy.
I sighed, stepping closer and trying to make myself noticed.
I'm not short. At least at five four, I don't consider myself short. However, compared to these guys, I looked like a hobbit. Even the shortest of the two still towered about a foot over me.
I wasn't so stupid as to think clearing my throat would get their attention. Instead, I did something very stupid.
I stepped in between them.
Muscle was pissed by the punch he'd just received and pulled his arm back to hit his opponent even harder. Right when his fist was about to collide with tall guys face, mine popped up instead.
He didn't notice. Even it he did, it was too late.
I felt his hand hit my cheek. The impact sent me crashing into the guy behind me, who, not expecting the sudden trust fall, took a step back, letting me tumble to the ground.
A ton of people gathered around me, forming an impenetrable circle. Peter and DS arrived, first looking worried, then furious. I saw how they both walked over to muscle before a dark veil stole my vision away.