Loser II || WlW

Thirty-Six

The ground is spinning under my feet and I have to clench the side of the Gazebo to balance myself.

"Oh my god."

Brittany's right eye is swollen closed. Her cheek is smeared with blood and there's a scratch on her chin like she caught it on something as she fell.

I crouch next to her and pull the duct tape from her mouth as gently as possible before I take her face in my hands.

"What did they do to you?"

Her lips quiver before she presses them closed. "We have to go, Jordan."

I nod and try to forget about the injuries but as I undo the tape around her wrists I find fingerprint-shaped bruises and wince.

"Brittany," I breathe.

Before I can ask again, she pushes her face into my neck and hugs me. "I'm okay, Jordan."

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again. I've been looking for hours," I explain. "I thought you might have left with Kyle."

She shakes her head. "Kyle's dead. He's hanging from a tree by our cabin right now."

The nonchalance of her tone takes me by surprise. I wish I could be more like her, always keeping a straight face, always managing to keep her emotions in check while I'm busy having panic attacks on the ground.

She pulls away from me, her forehead wrinkling. "J, you're bleeding." She holds her hand up to show me the red sheen on her fingertips.

I take a step back, look down at my chest and for the first time, I notice the sticky sleeve of my shirt. Roger must have landed that shot back in the cabin. I was so pumped with adrenaline I didn't notice I'd been shot but as I stare down at the slow spread of crimson against my tan shirt, my vision blurs. I've never been woozy around blood before but I can't keep myself steady.

"J?"

Brittany's words come in from miles away, warped and distorted. She's asking questions. I think. Or she's trying to soothe my fears as she pulls the jacket from my arms and lifts my shirt to get a better look at the bullet wound. She takes my face in her hands, says something with furrowed eyebrows, raises them at me when I don't respond.

My head is spinning so fast I can't keep my eyes open, but when I shut them, it only gets worse. It feels like I'm on a boat in the middle of a storm, trying to stay grounded.

"Jordan, don't pass out. You can't pass out right now," is the last thing I hear as my knees buckle under my weight.

I float in and out of half-thoughts that don't make sense, pulling closer to control when finally, they're going to kill us if I don't wake up.

It feels like only seconds have passed when I blink awake.

Brittany is kneeling next to me, winding medical tape around a patch of gauze she's holding to my shoulder.

"You'd make a hot doctor."

She shakes her head but she can't fight the smile playing on her lips as she blushes. "The swelling does it for you?" She motions to her eye.

Grace is peeking through a crack in the door. "Guys. We should really start moving. Before they show up again."

With Brittany's injuries and my spinning head, I'd almost forgotten she was with us. My head snaps up at her, but Brittany pushes on my shoulder.

"Stop moving," she orders.

I lie down again, shivering against the cold ground, and clench my teeth as fire burns through my shoulder. "How does it feel?" A frustrated chuckle escapes my lips as Grace faces us, her eyebrows pulling together in concern. I hold my arm up. The one with her work number drawn across it. "Look familiar?"