Why do you pick fights with other boys? It's the question Ryan has been running from all his life. The answer will shock you.
For as long as Ryan can remember, he's always wanted to be someone special. Now, a promising high school wrestler and a po...
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It was 12:32 AM in the mostly sleepy neighborhoods of Barclay. The night was mostly calm aside from the attempted murder committed minutes earlier and the car traveling the victim.
Ryan's car raced past a 25 MPH speed zone without halting at red lights or stop signs. Traffic rules were unknown concepts to Luke as he sped towards the hospital. Ryan kept pressure on Dalton's wound using a spare sweatshirt he had in his back seat. Even with the compression, blood was still leaving Dalton's body and staining everything it came in contact with. Dalton groaned, grunted, and screamed in pain. He began looking increasingly pale from his blood loss with every minute that went by.
Luke slammed his fist against the car's steering wheel, blasting the horn. "Get the hell out of the way!" He swerved in the opposite lane, passing by a car traveling the speed limit in front of him. Narrowly, he avoided hitting another car coming at him in the process. "Fuck! We should have called a fucking ambulance!"
"And wait twenty minutes?!" Ryan replied. "Just focus on getting us to the hospital!"
Luke begrudgingly composed himself, knowing Ryan was right.
"We're getting you to the hospital as fast as we can," Ryan said to Dalton. "We're going to take care of you." Somewhere in Ryan's subconscious, he wasn't sure if that was true. Dalton had lost a lot of blood, but Ryan did his best to sound as convincing as possible and ignore the possibility.
Dalton looked at the blood coming from his wound. Never had he been in so much pain. The suffering was so intense, he was not sure if he could move. He wasn't even sure if anything was real. What he experienced was more intense than any substance he had taken. And the pain... All he wanted was to crouch up into a ball.
"Why?" Dalton asked, weakly. "We did we..." His voice trailed off as he felt like his soul was leaving his body. His eyes began to flicker as he felt his blood soaking his back. "It hurts, Ryan! It fucking hurts!"
Tears rolled down Dalton's face which in turn made Ryan's eyes welled with tears. He gently exerted more pressure on Dalton's wound, making Dalton grind his teeth.
"You're not going to be okay," Ryan told his friend. "I'm going to make sure you're okay."
Dalton widened his eyes as he tried to control his breathing. "It's really bad," he said. "We... we went too far this time... I can't. I can't..." His voice trailed off as his eyelids relaxed and closed.
Ryan cupped Dalton's face with one hand while keeping pressure on the wound with the other "Hey - hey! Don't close your eyes. Stay with me, Dalton"
"Do you..." Dalton's eyes slightly opened. "Do you remember the first time we... we rode our bikes into the lake? We were like...ten?"
"Yeah, I remember," Ryan replied. "We came back home and your dad was so pissed at us for rusting the chains."
"We got... we got all the way out there... in the middle of Whatcom..."
"And then we ate junk food and watched "Jackass" later that night when your parents went to sleep. Prank called girls."
Dalton's lips formed a gentle smile. "I miss that, he said before closing his eyes. "I can see it now... I can see the lake... the sun... shining brightly... I see... I see three wolves..."
Wolves? Ryan thought. How does he... Ryan's thoughts left him as he noticed Dalton's slightly agape mouth. Immediately, he worried the worst, but then everything around him started to go quiet. All the sounds of Luke's chaotic driving and the world reacting outside faded. Luke screamed at another driver, but Ryan didn't hear anything. The only audible sounds were the hard, steel fisted blows Ryan delivered to Frank. Ryan looked down at his blood covered hands. For a moment, he could have sworn he saw the knuckle braces he used to beat Frank on his hand.
Ryan heard Frank's voice say, "Please, kid. Don't kill me."
Ryan's heart raced, suddenly making it hard to breathe. Under his breath, he said, "You're not there." .
"Please kid. Don't kill me."
"Snap out of it."
The sound of steel knuckles pulverizing human flesh overwhelmed Ryan.
"Please, kid. Don't kill me."
"Snap out of it!" Ryan slapped himself, causing Luke to take notice.
"Please kid. Don't kill me."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry..."
Frank's screams and sobs accompanied the sounds of the blows. "Please, kid -"
Luke said, "Ryan, what are you -"
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
"Don't kill me!"
"I didn't mean too!" Ryan yelled, as tears ran down his face. "I didn't mean too!"
Ryan began to sob uncontrollably while holding onto Dalton, who appeared dead. He had lost so much blood, his skin had turned gray.
Luke slammed on the breaks of the car, nearly hurling Ryan and Dalton out of their seats. They were outside the front entrance of the ER.
"We're here!" Luke yelled.
Several nurses speedily wheeled an unconscious Dalton in a hospital bed down a hallway. Already, the pad underneath Dalton was soaking in blood, leaving droplets down the hallway as he moved. Several nurses were speedily setting up a blood transfusion.
The surgeon, who looked like he had either just rolled out of bed or been up all night, joined them. "Heart rate?"
"Over one-hundred thirty-one," said one of the nurses.
"How bad?"
"Class three hemorrhage."
"Blood loss?"
The nurse frowned, "About thirty-six percent."
The surgeon's eyes lit up. "This boy's knockin' on death's door! We've got to get moving now!"
They pushed open the doors to an operating room and went inside.
