The Red

Coward

 TW// blood, violence, injury CW// cursing, death

This story is highly inspired by Dream's song, road trip. Fan art is by me (Apparently people hate when authors do that so sorrY?). PLEASE pay attention to the TW because I  seriously mean it. And ALSO enjoy :')

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Under any other circumstance, the expanse of mountains around me would have been beautiful. 

But now, speeding down the interstate in the dark and desperately trying to drive with one hand, knowing what I was leaving behind- it was easy to not notice the mountains ever-so-slightly lit up by the moon. My mind was rushing at the same speed I was driving.

 I looked down at the red seeping from my lower stomach, my hand applying pressure to it and probably failing. The red was everywhere. Like a happy little accident while painting. Except none of this had been an accident, and if you lost too much paint then-

I looked back up at the road, trying the hardest I ever had to not cry. When I did earlier the world went blurry and I nearly swerved off the road. The feeling of choking back tears hurts. It stings your throat and hurts your head and it...hurts. Everything hurts. 
I can't focus on the road after that.
I can't focus on anything.

I don't want to die.

The tears streamed down my face now. I had to pull over.

 I winced and looked down at where the source of the red was. In the dark at the side of the road my blood looked black. I reached for the car light overhead and turned it on. God, it hurt. I was almost thankful for it, as crazy as that was. When you get an injury like this the pain is all your mind can think of- not even who or what caused it. As much as it stung and my whole body ached, I could turn off my brain. Go on auto-pilot mode. I could forget, even if for now. Pain makes you think clearly. Cleans all the red and the black and the memories and the guilt and bullshit away. 

I let my head fall back into the seat and stared at the roof of the car for a brief moment. I let out a sharp breath. There was a red dot. Multiple ones sprinkled across the roof of the car. Blood. I'm going to be sick-

I threw the car door open and spilled what was left in me onto the grass. I slammed the door shut again, feeling horrible. For a split second his face flashed through my mind.

I fumbled with the contents of the car, searching frantically for anything to stop the bleeding. Thankfully there was an old health kit tucked away under the passenger's seat. I eventually found bandages and managed to wrap my injury up fully. It didn't make up for all the blood I had already lost - but it was better than dying on the run in a car that wasn't even mine-

The wooshing sound of a car passing by made me jump. Oh shit, I didn't think of that. 

I wasn't the only one on this nearly-empty highway that stretched on forever. I also wasn't the only one pulling over. Shit. Please don't let them be a cop. 

Again, I found myself frantically searching through the contents of the car. Surely they had a jacket? Or I brought one? Taking jackets or food or anything smart like that wasn't going through my head at the time I literally stole someone's car. I was on the run. Scared shitless. I sighed relief for a brief moment at the discovery of a jacket lying on the floor, but when I picked it up my chest heaved with pain again. It wasn't my jacket- or even the owner of this car's jacket. It was worse - it was his jacket. Of course my stupid past-self from an hour ago thought that bringing his jacket of all the jackets i could possibly bring along was a good idea. Well, it was something.