The Girl

Chapter Thirty Four

  "Beth!" I hear someone scream excruciatingly loudly. My water slips out of my hand and splatters over the floor as I sprint out of the room. I zip past gladers who turn their heads to see where all the fuss was coming from. I push my way to the front of the small crowd to see Alby crouched over a boy who was clutching his stomach and seemed to be groaning and writhing in pain. I drop to my knees next to his chest.

"What happened?" I ask Alby, astonished at the amount of pain the boy seems to be in.

"I don't know. He just fell over while gardening and couldn't speak. For all we know he's been stung."

"No we would know if he's been stung, if he just randomly dropped, something must've happened vitally. Hm," I huff and decide what to do with the poor boy in front of me. I kneel down to attempt to straighten him out enough that I can listen to his breathing and heartbeat. When I can't hear the steady thumps I take his wrist in my hand and check his pulse.

"Oh my gosh, his heart is racing. We need to get him to the medjack tent immediately," I order, rising from my knees.

"You heard the Keeper; get two shanks to pull this slinthead to the medjack tent!" Alby backs me up. The gladers hectically rush around, bumping into each other and knocking each other over before two boys finally pick the boy up and pull him over to the tent.

"Second cot, please," I point to the cot I want them to place him on. They set him down gently. I thank them before they dismiss themselves to go back to work. The boy on the cot writhes and groans in pain. I focus all my attention on him.

The boy can't be more than fifteen years old, as old as me. But of course, girls do mature faster. Maybe it's a motherly instinct. Or my ability to help people. Or all of that. He looks horrified. I walk over to him slowly and quietly. I kneel down next to him.

"Hey... it's alright. I'll take care of you. Don't you worry. What's your name?" I ask sweetly.

"It's... it's Drew," He whispers and groans.

"Okay, Drew. I'm just going to ask you a few yes or no questions. You can either nod or shake your head or speak, whatever is more comfortable for you. Alright?" I consol. He looks up at me nervously, but nods his head.

"Great. And remember, I know it's hard not to be, but you really don't need to be nervous. I'll make sure you're all better as soon as physically possible. So let's get started with the questions. Is the pain only in your stomach?" I ask. He shakes his head but grimaces.

"No... no it's in my stomach and chest..." He says. I begin to frown but quickly wipe the expression off my face. I can't be pessimistic now.

"Okay, it'll be okay. On a scale of one to ten, how badly would you rate your pain?" I ask.

"Um... maybe 7 or 8?" He says with difficulty.

"That's good, that's good. That means you can handle more than that, you'll be fine. Really. Now, were you doing anything unusual today leading up to the pain?"

"No, no I was just building as usual when I got the awful pain and fell down," He whimpers. I push his hair out of his eyes. He begins to cry.

"Shh, it's okay. I won't let anything happen to you. I promise. You're gonna be okay," I tell him. I take his hand. "Can you take a deep breath?"

"I... I can try..."

"We'll do it together. Inhale for three seconds, and exhale for five. Ready?" I ask. He nods timidly. "In, two, three. Out, two, three, four, five. That was great," I tell him as we finish exhaling. "That means that the source of the pain isn't affecting your lungs. Now, I'm just going to take your pulse again. Don't worry," I lower my voice and move my hand from his to his wrist and press two fingers to it. His heart rate slowed.

"Is everything okay?" He mutters when I don't say anything. I shake my head out of my trance.

"Yes, wonderful. Your heart rate has slowed from its rapid pace from before, meaning it was probably just stress," I tell him, getting up and grabbing a rag. I kneel down next to his cot again and press the towel to his forehead to clean up the sweat. He bites his lip forcefully, as if trying to avoid something. "It's okay to cry, it's scary. No one else is here, it's just me. But you're okay," I tell him. He quietly sobs.

"Thank you..." he whispers to me. I squeeze his hand.

"It's what I'm here to do," I tell him. I use the towel to wipe away his tears. "You can stay here as long as you need to, I won't go anywhere until you don't need me anymore. You'll be better soon." I continue to quietly give him reassurance. "Try to get some sleep if you can, it should help."

"What if I can't fall asleep?" He asks. I shrug.

"Then you don't sleep, but just try. Sleep helps heal everything. No matter what you have sleep should help your body get over it," I explain to him while washing the rag. I submerge it in cold water, wring it out, and then place it on his forehead.

"I'm scared..." He whispers shakily. I kneel down and take his hand.

"Don't be. I'm right here. I won't let anything happen to you, I promise. Just try to get some sleep. I can sing to you, if you want," I run my thumb back and forth across the back of his hand. He nods slowly and shuts his eyes, drowsily. He looks awfully tired, probably a cross between all his building and his illness.

"Thank you..." Drew whispers, so quietly it's almost silent. I take a deep breath and walk around the cot to get to the other side and sit down on the wooden chair next to it. Drew slowly and carefully turns on his side to face me and I take his hand once again.

I sing quietly and calmingly to help Drew drift off into a deep sleep, which I hope will help get rid of his pain. I love helping people, but I don't always know how. I mean, like almost all of the other Gladers, I don't really know what I'm doing. But I can try my best to figure it out.