The streets had been evacuated hours ago, but Quinn was still out. Even worse, he was mixed up in all of this. He kept his head down as he walked on the sidewalk, hand clutched onto his lower stomach beneath his jacket. The cracks and edges of the ground were blurring together, making him hesitate whenever he placed his foot down, scared the ground would swallow him whole. Every muscle in his body tensed whenever the siren of a cop car zoomed by.
He had time.
He did a quick double take before smoothly turning into a back alley. Once he was far enough down to not be heard he finally let out the distraught cry that had been building in his throat.
His mouth was agape as he stared at his blood-soaked hand. He couldn't die. He couldn't, he still had plans.
Quinn slumped down against the wall, groaning in protest.
Quick, think of something.
He leaned forward, pulling his backpack out to the front of him, shakily rummaging through the cash to find something to save him.
He breathed with intention as he pulled off his jacket, then lifted his shirt up over his head, muttering profanities the entire way. Using his teeth, he bit down on the collar of his T-shirt until it tore in two. Once he had a good enough piece to work with he turned his attention back to the bag.
"Shit, shit-" He finally found it. A roll of duct tape.
With trembling hands he grabbed his water bottle, taking and savoring a small sip before pouring the rest onto the wound on his stomach. He started with the piece of his shirt, wrapping it around his body and tying it in the front. The more he pulled, the tighter it got, and the harder it was to keep from passing out.
When he lifted his head up to take a breather from it all, he discovered that the world was upside down. He knew the sirens were close to him now, but for some reason he could hardly make out the sound of them. He gripped onto the ground, scared that he'd fall into the sky if he let go.
No. You have to finish.
Quinn grabbed the duct tape and brought his senses back to focus. There'd be time to pass out later. Now wasn't it. He gave the knot one more final tug before layering the duct tape on top. He lost count eventually, hoping his efforts would be enough to save him.
He held his hands out in front of his face, palms facing him. Everything was so red. He wanted it off.
He began hurriedly smearing the blood onto his pants, rubbing his hands aggressively until it burned. There was still blood. And it wasn't just his.
He whimpered, wishing this nightmare would end.
"Get off, get off get off get off!"
He used his nails to claw at his hands. The sirens were loud now. He was going to die. It was over.
He heard footsteps. They were running towards him.
His breathing quickened. He grabbed onto the ground again, using it as support.
The exhale hitched in his throat as felt a person looming over him. He winced down further into the ground.
"Quinn?"
He blinked, squinting up at the person.
"Dev?" His voice was small despite the friendly face he saw looking down at him. Devon had been with him. Besides a few bruises on his face he seemed fine.
Devon knelt down in front of him, placing a hand on either shoulder and inspecting him diligently, his worried features tightening upon seeing the blood seeping out from his stomach.
