Linger: Book 2

Chapter 13

Once the group had calmed themselves and somewhat rested, they set out once again on foot. They did not keep close to the river's edge, though. Instead, they traveled inland just far enough for the river to still be heard and followed. They walked through the remainder of the night. It wasn't until the morning sun reached the tops of the mountains that they finally stopped to rest once more. The Kirbys settled into the roots of a large tree, where they reminisced among themselves quietly, almost like a normal family...

Alan was pacing again. He was still fretting over their new course of action and what their next step should be. He hadn't said a word to Amy, nor had she tried speaking with him either. Amy stepped off a few yards away from Alan and the Kirbys where she found a large rock to sit upon. When her knees bent and she began to take her seat, her side screamed with a growing fire that made her wince and clutch at her hidden wound tighter. During their walk, Amy's initial shock had worn away and all the adrenaline that kept her side from feeling any pain had disappeared to the point that nearly every step was a painful challenge. The inside of her cheeks and bottom lip were raw and sliced open from her teeth with every step she took forward. Amy had kept to the back of the group so that she could do frequent checks on the wound. Whenever her shirt would fill with blood and begin to seep, she would quickly wipe away the blood with the sleeve of her jacket then return to applying pressure. Thankfully, the rain had colored the brown jacket to almost black, so no red showed.

Now alone on the rock, Amy could finally inspect the injury further and assess her situation properly. She opened her jacket, revealing a white tank top on her chest and saturated, oozing red along her abdomen. Carefully, she peeled the cloth up, revealing the wound. It was sickeningly deep and her blood refused to clot, though there was no sign that her insides might have been punctured. Instead, the gash followed the outline of her ribs, starting on the upper left of her stomach and over her side. Every breath she took would send a few drops of blood to drip and she winced, nauseated by the sight. Although the wound seemed bad, Amy concluded that it could have been worse. As long as she could make it to the coast with the others, everything would be fine.

"Amy?" Alan's sudden voice startled her and she jumped. Her head whipped around to face Alan, who only beckoned her with his fingers, signalling that it was time to go. Amy nodded and Alan went on to gather the Kirbys. Before he could get far, though, Amy called after him. The man stopped in his tracks and he peered at her from over his shoulder. Amy swallowed thickly and she wrapped her arms tightly around her sides.

"Alan, I'm sorry. For everything."

Alan sighed. "I am too."

"Do you think that, maybe... We could start over?"

"No," Alan shook his head. Instantly, Amy felt as though someone had stabbed her chest with a hot poker and tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She understood, though, and she only nodded her acceptance. Then, Alan turned to regard her fully, and when Amy forced her caramel eyes to face him once more, she saw him smiling. "We don't need to start over, Amethyst. We're perfect where we are." Amy's heart instantly rose to her throat and she could not speak, but there was no need to. Her chapped lips parted into her own, beaming smile and she could only nod again. Without a word, Alan turned and headed back towards the Kirbys. Once he was out of earshot, Amy released a breath she did not know she was holding. Her brown eyes landed on her bleeding cut again. With one last inspection, Amy fixed her shirt back over it and she stood, zipping up her jacket as she did and placing her palm hard against the wound to try and aid in stopping the blood flow. Even so, her heart was thundering so greatly and her head was buzzing so much that she could not be worried about her injury. That was, until she started to walk.

The group continued on through the woods, all mindful of their surroundings except for Eric. The boy had taken his spot next to Alan and locked the man into continuous questioning. Amy strolled behind the group slowly, careful of her footing. Despite this, every step seemed to open the wound further, and she was beginning to feel a wetness growing under her palm. Amy only pressed harder, the tips of her teeth biting down on the cracked flesh of her bottom lip. Her head had begun to form a thin sheet of sweat and her face felt cold. Her toes began to catch upon the rocks and tree roots as she shuffled after the others lazily. She felt sick. It didn't occur to the woman until that moment the significance of her situation, and it took even less time for her to realize that she was in trouble. She couldn't make it any further...