While I'm Alive (An Owen Grady Story)

Chapter Twenty-Three

CHAPTER TWENT-THREE

"THOSE THREE WORDS SENT A THRILL THROUGH ME, IGNITING ME FROM HEAD TO TOE"

SONG TO LISTEN TO: SAFE PLACE TO LAND BY CHRISTIAN BURGHARDT

It felt like the longest walk of my life and I wasn't even the one doing the walking. More than once I asked Owen to put me down, but he refused. He hid it well, but I could tell my extra weight didn't make the short journey any easier on him. He was tired, like we all were. The fact that he had maintained his sense of humor throughout our ordeal didn't change the fact that there was a lot weighing on his mind. I could tell by the lines that creased the skin of his forehead and by the frown that took the place of his usual boyish smile. I didn't press him, though. Partly because I was in pain and worried that if I opened my mouth, I'd either puke or cry. Having a raptor gouge a hole in your leg was probably a good excuse to cry and scream, but I held it together for my own sake. And Owen's too.

When we finally made it to the evacuation center near the water, he passed me off to one of the island's paramedics. I gripped the edges of the cot tightly in both hands as the paramedic carefully cut away a few more inches of fabric from the leg of my jean shorts. Owen hovered behind him, watching me with worried eyes.

"I'm fine, Owen." I managed to get out through gritted teeth. "Go find Claire, or Violet. Anybody." It wasn't that I didn't want him there. It was that I hated being fussed over for any reason, even if it was legitimate.

"Okay, here we go. This might sting." The paramedic, who looked almost more tired than I felt, held up an antibacterial swab. I nodded, trying to mentally prepare myself. I could see out of the corner of my eye that Owen was still standing there so I focused instead on the paramedic's first name, which was embroidered into the fabric of his jacket with black thread. Arsen? What kind of a name was-

"Son of a bitch!" I yelped, my body reacting all on its own as an intense burning feeling radiated all up and down my thigh. "You said it might hurt!" I cried out, fingers gripping the metal frame of the cot tightly.

The paramedic, or Arsen if that was even a real name, arched an eyebrow but didn't look sorry. Owen was suddenly crouching next to me, prying my fingers away from the cot and intertwining them around his own. "Christ, you really think I'd be okay letting you do this alone? It's okay to not be a badass sometimes." He said under his breath, using his free hand to push my hair away from my face. I tried to swat his hand away, but he gave me an amused look and grabbed onto it, keeping both my hands trapped in-between his much larger ones.

"That was the easy part so it's probably a good thing you stay here. Give her a distraction." Arsen added, arranging a tray of scary looking medical instruments on the tray next to him. My face paled as he picked up a needle. "Mild anesthetic. Should make everything else go a little easier."

"No. Nu uh." I shook my head and swallowed hard. "Can't you just slap a band-aid on it and call it a day?"

"Ry, look at me." Owen said, his voice steady and even then I didn't know if it was steady enough to keep me from running away. Annoyed and more than a little weary of the needle and what was going to come after, I hesitated a moment longer before looking at Owen. I expected to see the amused look on his face still, maybe a smug smile or something else very 'Owen-like'. Instead he was watching me with a seriousness that made my pulse feel reckless.

"You were amazing today." He said quietly. "And as sorry as I am that I somehow dragged you into, I'm glad you were there. We make a pretty good team." He added with a small smile.