Spirit

Are you high?

"This is bad," I muttered, staring at his wound. His skin was becoming pale and his breathing slow. He lay there, eyes closed. Shit, did he pass out?

I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and quickly typed 911. Before I could call them I felt a hand weakly press against my arm. The hand came from the young man on the ground. He coughed and muttered, "Don't do that."

"Why?" I asked, lowering my phone to the ground.

"I don't need my name in a hospital record."

I carefully tried to make sense of his words. "Are you in trouble with the law?"

"No, just don't call the fucking police," he snapped.

"Alright, asshole," I replied, slightly irritated at his rudeness. "What do you suppose we do, then?"

"I'm going to need your help to do something. Will you help me do that thing?"

I nodded.

"Prop me up against the wall, please."

I struggled to lift and drag him by his armpits, taking care to not cause more damage. The guy was probably 175 pounds and extremely heavy. I used all of my effort to lean him against the grimy brick wall.

"Okay, now what."

"I need you to hold your hand over my mouth and then pull the knife out of me."

"You're insane. You're going to bleed out!"

"I'm going to cauterize the wound!"

I starred at him in disbelief.

"Even if you manage to cauterize the wound, you could die of infection," I snapped.

"Stop arguing with me. If we don't do anything, I'll bleed out and I'll die. At least this way when an infection occurs, I'll have antibiotics. Are you going to help me or not?"

I eventually nodded my head and straddled his lap to have a better position for my task. It wasn't ideal but neither was potentially killing this guy. He pulled out a lighter from his pocket and lighted it. The flames licked the open air, excited by the abundance of fuel.

"That's not going to do anything."

I felt his glare as I stared at the fickle flame.

"Trust me." Pull the blade out at the same angle it was lodged or else you'll damage even more organs."

No pressure.

"What if this doesn't work?" I asked suddenly. "What if we can't stop the bleeding fast enough and you die?"

"Look at me," he said. "This will work, okay. Trust me."

"I'm having a hard time believing you," I muttered.

"If something happens then use my phone and call Chris. Tell him where we are and he'll come and help, okay?"

I nodded. My hands trembled like an earthquake as I held this persons life in my care. If this didn't work then he would die and it would be my fault.

I clamped my hand over his mouth and wrapped my hand around the handle of the blade. On the count of three, I pulled the knife out like a bandage and saw more blood come out of him. He screamed into my hand and I pressed down harder to muffle the cries. He lifted his clothing up to expose the flesh. I expected him to heat the knife but rather he placed the flame in his own hand and I watched it ignite in his palm. I flinched away from the fire.

"What the f-" I stopped short watching him press his palm into his side as he yelled even more. Then his muffled screams stopped and his head fell limp. Blood started to seep through his fingers; his method no longer affective. I pressed my hand over his wound to maintain pressure.