North Star

15. Bloody Hands

Hurriedly, I kneel next to her and grab her head to level it.

"Margo! Margo, can you hear me?" I ask, gently shaking her and tapping her cheek to wake her, she didn't wake up.

"Come on, girl. Wake up. You're okay. You're okay. You're not going to die. What the hell are you doing out here? Oh, god. Come on, Margo! Wake up!" I beg as I begin to shake her. Again, she doesn't wake, she just goes limp.

I shouldn't be shaking her anyway, she's injured, I might make something worse.

Gently, I place her body back on the ground, looking at her face a second longer. Margo Shephard is my absolute best friend, she's been there for me more times than I can count. In my memory, Margo is tall, curvy, pale with silky smooth light brown hair that reached down to her chest. Her big thick glasses shape her face, reminding me of a raccoon. Why a raccoon? She is adorable, but if messed with then she will attack. I remember when there was a time that she scared me, but it only took a little bit to connect with her and let her open up to accept me as a friend. She made sure that I was protected though, and even when others came at me for stupid things, like my weirdness or just to put me down, she was always there.

I was always jealous at how she looked at things so realistically, much more than I did. Even when my head was always in the clouds, she would help me come back down before I got myself hurt. I always saw the good in people, but sometimes that would only bite me in the butt and I'd have to pay for it with my tears. Then the whole process started all over again, but Margo made sure to hold me back and be there. It pained me when she left for college and I couldn't see her anymore, but not as much as it pains me to see her now.

It's not physical pain but pain and horror for her that she is out here in this state. She shouldn't be out here. She should be in Arizona at her university soaking in the sun with her new friends and that one boy she's been crushing on lately. Why is she out here tired looking, beat up, covered in dirt and soaked in blood?

Soaked in blood.

Blood.

My eyes move to look where I smell the most blood coming out, she had cut her leg open, probably from the fall. Margo broke her knee back in sophomore year and she's had pain in her leg ever since then, so of course she fell and cut open her bad leg.

The smell is not like anything I've ever smelt before. I've smelled Nessie's and the wolves' blood, but their sweet scents are too soon masked over with their other unappealing scents, so those don't count. Animals' blood clearly don't count, that is why the Cullen's call themselves vegetarians, or as Nessie says, living off of celery sticks and tofu. Now I know what she means, because this is so much more.

It is overpowering, like a whole brick wall smashed right into my face. So sweet and floral like, and not once did it diminish with another scent.

I force my rational part to hold my breath and use every piece of strength in me to hold myself back. I want to move away but I know I can't just leave her bleeding out, stranded in the middle of nowhere.

My hand closest to her bleeding leg started moving on its own accord, its form turning claw like. My other hand moved on its own to hold it back, but the other hand had her blood on it too, her head is bleeding.

I'm scared and her blood is right here, flowing in front of me. I can feel everything in me shutting down, but, before my senses take over and I have to claw at myself to fight, I unwrap my raincoat from my waist and tie it around her leg. I make sure to double and triple tie it, not sure if I'm about to snap her leg entirely from the force, but she's lucky I'm holding on to rationality so that I don't kill her.