La Mort et ses Merveilles ✔

26. Bloodletting

"Leslie, don't!" I yelled, as he stepped forward.

The young man eyed me, then to the terrified girl with the gun. Her hands trembling, she shifted her aim to him, before taking a step back. It was then when the barrel of the gun returned to face me. In the corner of my eye I could see Leslie jolt to action. I tried to reach out to stop him, my arms flailing towards the young man.

But I was too late. He shoved me out of the way, and I fell to the ground.

I didn't know why he'd do something like that. He was always like that, rash and hot-headed. Never really thought about anything that he did.

I'd never forget that deafening bang.

And I'd especially never forget the thud that followed.

I rushed over to him as he held his side with his palm, his jacket quickly stained a deep red.

"No, no, no!" I frantically called out as I knelt down, the tears pooling in my eyes. "Oh my God, Leslie!"

His eyes were shut as he grimaced in pain. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to do when the boy I loved lay there right in front of me on the cold hard concrete, bleeding.

The girl was gone soon after, possibly escaping from the open first door window. And as luck would've had it, things seemed to have calmed outside, the gunfire and the screaming have all but ceased. And it was then when Bradley appeared in the doorway, presumably to check on the group after the spoils of  the raid.

He may be a jerk and a cold-blooded killer, but he was my only hope  then and there. I almost let out a sigh of relief escape my lips. I was sure he was the only one here that could help me. Gripped in my panic, I could only cling onto Leslie's forearm.

The young man in the letterman jacket looked at the body of his dead friend, before turning to look at Leslie.

"Shit, shit!" he cursed under his breath as he rushed over to me. "How bad is it? Who did this?"

He almost tripped into me as he scampered to Leslie's wounded side, looking at the bleeding bullet wound.

"Don't worry abou-" the young man said as the blood began to trickle down onto the floor, but no sooner than him finishing his sentence was he interrupted by a loud groan.

"We'll get you out of here," Bradley said, propping him up, slinging the young man's arm around his shoulder.

But as he tried to do so, Leslie yelped in pain.

"We can't move him too much," I blurted out, remembering something I've learnt in first aid a long time ago. "We need a canvas or a stretcher, something we can move him without disturbing him too much."

"Right," Bradley muttered, before quickly rushing out, shouting out some orders in the background.

I didn't really remember, the only thing on my mind was the young man in front of me. I clasped his hand between my two palms, squeezing it tight. I pressed against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding somehow. He looked up at me, staring at me with his bright blue eyes. He didn't say anything, but for a brief moment I thought I could see his eyes widening. Fear. He was scared, but he never said it. He was always like that.