𝙇𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙢 𝘽𝙤𝙙𝙮 : ̗̀➛ 𝙙.𝙙

𝙙𝙖𝙬𝙣

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For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11

I shut my old leather bible carefully. It was near falling apart.
"Del?" Beth leaned in my doorway. "Would you mind helping us set the table for dinner?"
"I'm coming."
I set my bible in the nightstand drawer, slowly shutting it like any suddenness would shatter it.
Silverware and plates clinked as Patricia and Beth helped set the table. My sister stood at the sink, cutting vegetables, not even acknowledging my existence.
"Could you help your sister with the onions, dear?" Patricia cut tomatoes but I saw her eyes keep roaming towards the window.
I joined my sister's side after I washed my hands, grabbing a kitchen knife.
"Could've used your help to cook the chicken and rice," Kay uttered under her breath. I ignored her. Living with her now was so much more suffocating than before the world went to shit. We hated each other, but I also loved her too deeply to have left her back at the house. I could've.
Patricia stared out the kitchen window at the miles of yard. The sun had started to set, as if it was a timer about to ring. Worry etched her face.
I placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, giving her a weak smile. "I'm sure Otis will be back anytime now." I didn't know if I even believed myself.
"Hershel!" Otis suddenly burst through the front door, as if on cue, it slammed behind him. We all followed Otis's panicked voice.
Hershel emerged from his study.
"Hershel, you gotta come out here, you gotta help this boy!" Otis pleaded. Hershel followed Otis out to the front porch. I stood at the screen door, staring out to see a man in a sheriff uniform, a boy in his arms. He looked distraught, almost falling over his own feet.
Hershel pushed the screen door open, nearly knocking me off my feet.
"Patricia, get me a light. Otis, I need a table. Del, Im gonna need your help in here," He demanded.
"His mom.. she needs.." The sheriff stumbled over his words.
"Where is she?" Maggie questioned.
"Off highway 70-" Before he could finish Maggie bolted out the front door.
I quickly joined Hershels side in the room, staring down at the boy on the table. He looked so pale, so lifeless. My face ran cold as I wondered if he was even alive anymore.
"What the hell happened?"
"Otis shot him, hunting accident. I need you to hand me my tweezers and help his dad hold him down."
"Hold him down?" The sheriff fumbled over his words in a panic.
"This is going to be very painful, he's gonna move, you gotta help me because one small movement could kill him." Hershel explained bluntly. The sheriff hesitantly nodded, pushing the boys shoulders down to the table as I held his legs. I felt horrible, like I was torturing the poor kid.
Hershel dug the tweezers into the wound. The boy screamed a scream that could shake the shingles off a home, throwing his whole body in the air as he cried out, like an exorcism. I struggled to hold him still, I forgot how strong someone can be when in pain. The man had silent tears streaming his cheeks, leaving clean lines on his dirty face.
Hershel clanked a piece of bullet onto the silver tray.
"One down, twenty two more to go..."

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