The night is dark, exhaustion pulling at my eyelids and my bones.
My every breath rattles out of my chest, my stomach contracting with pain, but I don't stop driving.
The stars twinkle above the car as I drive down an almost deserted road.
My eyes stray to the rear-view mirror, Hollands pale face taking up my view. Sweat builds on her brow, my shirt clinging to her skin. A shiver wracks her body, teeth chattering.
I grind mine, wild eyes searching for somewhere to lay low.
I look back at her, the worry in my mind growing as I see another shiver take over her.
Her wounds are getting infected.
I moved her to the backseat a few hour ago when I noticed she fell asleep, her injured back against the seat. It didn't look comfortable with the wince on her exhausted face.
I turn the wheel, the car following as I drive us over the bridge, my shoulder screams but I ignore it.
I twist the wheel at the end of the bridge, turning the car left and disappearing between foliage.
I don't know this area, nothing I've passed in the last few hours spells out where we are.
I quickly park the car under the bridge, the jolt of it awakening Holland.
She goes to get up, but her hands shake beneath her, and she crashes back to the seat.
I get out, quickly opening the back door and leaning over her.
I brush the hair from her forehead and her eyes flutter open.
"Archer?" She groans, trying to lift herself back up again.
"Stay still, it's fine. We're fine. I just stopped for a rest."
She groans, her eyes squeezed shut.
"Where are we?"
"I don't know, I parked the car under a bridge for now. It's out of sight."
Her eyes flutter open, and she glances at me, her eyes going to my bruised shoulder.
"It's fine." I answer the unspoken question, rolling it for her to see even as it pains me.
Thankfully, she focuses on my shoulder and not my face or she would've seen the wince that took over my features.
"It's fine?" She mumbles and I smile, brushing the hair as it falls back into her face.
"It's fine, I promise. Go back to sleep."
"I can't." She mumbles against the seat. "My back." She tries to touch it, but I grab her hand, squeezing it and laying it back down beside her.
"I'll look at it."
I quickly lift up the shirt, being gentle of her wounds.
She winces as I do and I stop, breathing in sharply.
"What?"
I look at her, noticing the strength in her gaze.
"It's stuck to the wounds, if I pull it, it will reopen them."
Her eyes harden and she shuts them before opening them again, looking at me with resolve.
"Do it."
"Are you sure?"
She nods her head, hand clutching at the door handle.
I try to be gentle as I peel the shirt back. But by the muffled screaming and the whiteness of her face and knuckles, I doubt I succeeded.
