Blood... Stiles could feel it soaking into his shirt, making the shirt stick to his skin. There was a wound on his side. He didn't dare glance. He didn't dare move from his sprawled out position on the ground.
He felt dizzy. His head hurt... Everything hurt.
The attackers had had knives with them.
And Stiles got stuck in it all.
The stab wound throbbed with a pain Stiles had never experienced before.
He tried to remain calm. He really did. But it was hard to act as if he wasn't bleeding out in a dirty alleyway.
Deep breaths, deep breaths. In and out. Panicking will only make this worse... Panicking will only make it quicker..
Maybe that's better...
Every breath made his wound throb. Electric pain shot through his whole body with every rise and fall. Stiles wheezed with every shortening breath. Getting harder.. and harder.. harder to take in those breaths. Harder to find a reason to continue, to push through the pain.
It's okay, it's okay. Keep breathing. You're gonna be okay. We will find you.
Stiles looks around. He looks for anything, anything at all that could help him. He'd almost cried in relief when he saw his phone a few feet away. That's it. It was so close.. yet so far...
It was face down on the pavement. It had probably been broken in the attack, but it was all he had. It was his only chance.
I have to get over there... I have to call the police...
No..My dad will answer the call.. He'll freak out.. I can't worry him.
Scott. I have to call Scott.
The device was only about ten feet away, but to Stiles it looked like a thousand miles.
"Goddamnit," He cursed. Feeling the wound rip more, feeling the blood seep out. It hurt...
I have to get over there. I need Scott.
He looked down at his wound—his once grey shirt now with an ugly reddish brown patch—and then back at the phone with a loud groan.
"This is gonna hurt."
First, he was going to have to flip himself over. He'd figure out the rest after that. He rolled onto his uninjured side. Now laid sideways on the ground. That was good. That was progress. This is one step closer to Scott.
Baby steps. Baby steps. Baby steps.
Stiles repeated this like a mantra.
Stiles pushed himself up, so he sat on his knees, resting on his arms in front of him, trying to rest for a second before continuing his painful path towards his phone.
He gingerly reached out his hands, doing his best not to disrupt the muscles under his injury, and placed both their palms on the cold ground.
Working up the courage to push himself up.
Then he did it.
Or he tried...
He tried to stand, his arms gave out under him were too weak- possibly from the blood loss, possibly just the adrenaline finally giving out on him.—to push him up and he fell clumsily down again. A scream ripped out of him as his side hit the ground.
"SHIT!" He exclaimed in pain. He covered his mouth to cover the sound as he cried from the pain. Hot tears slipped from their eyes and down their cheeks. Desperately, he looked at the alleyway entrance, searching for anyone who may be around.
