A Twist of Fate SERIES (Pentatonix)

(29) Quarter Past Four

you ever appalled at how incredibly horrible your writing can be at times? yeah. pre-editing, this chapter was one of those instances. but now it's all rewritten and polished for your enjoyment! :)

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( MITCH )

I can't feel. I can't breathe. I can't move. Not even when I hear frantic voices fill the hallway and loud sirens scream from right outside the metal doors a couple of feet in front of me. I vaguely catch sight of Ben racing past me to open up the doors for the paramedics, and then somebody else is pulling me away from Scott while the uniformed officers surround his body.

A strange sound starts to build up in the base of my throat, threatening to release itself, though I can barely breathe with the knot that has already lodged itself in my vocal cords, as if the letters of Scott's and Avi's names are there, impeding my thoughts and encumbering my abilities to do anything.

I can faintly hear somebody calling for a stretcher, and then Ben is kneeling down beside Kirstie and I, telling me something that I don't understand. The only thing I can hear is the blood rushing past my ears—all the blood that Scott has lost—and the way the knot in my throat is slowly coming undone; tears slide down my cheeks as a result.

I return to the present when another paramedic runs in through the metal doors, pushing a stretcher beside him. Through the mass of navy blue, I see that Scott already has an IV in his arm, an oxygen mask covering his face, and his shirt is ripped open. The officials all talk in hushed tones so I can't understand what they're saying.

With a small bout of courage, I ask, my voice small, "Is he gonna be okay?"

Instantly, a female paramedic glances behind her shoulder and looks at me. She gives me a sympathetic smile, trying to hide her inner thoughts and assumptions, but I already know. "We're going to do our best," is all she says, and then they're picking up the backboard and lifting it onto the stretcher; Scott's body shakes like a lifeless ragdoll as he's transferred, and I can feel my insides start to crumble. Even under the oxygen mask, I can see his bright purple lips, and his skin holds a pale gray color.

My heart immediately skids to a stop when I hear the female paramedic shout to her colleagues: "He's lost a lot of blood! Call for potentially several transfusions and page the OR!"

They pull up the rails and race him out of the building before I have anymore time to react.

And then I feel hands underneath my shoulders, pulling me up off the floor like my parents used to when I was a baby. Ben is speaking while my mind spins: "Mitch, come on. We're gonna call an uber and meet Scott there."

I must look completely helpless, because then Kirstie grabs onto my elbow and starts to pull me down the hallway, opposite the way Scott just went. I keep my eyes trained on the blood on the floor, on my sweatpants, on my hands, as I stumble after them.

I'm hoping that the driver doesn't give us a look when he sees I'm covered in blood, but I'm honestly too numb to even notice. Ben slides into the passenger's seat while Kirstie and I take the back. Only when I see the tears staining her cheeks do I return to the present.

"Don't cry," I tell her softly as I pull her into me, despite the blood crusted onto my hands. She leans her head against my chest, her shoulders shaking as she cries. "They'll be okay."

I hope at least some confidence is laced through my words, given the fact that I just completely lied to my best friend. How can I know they're gonna be okay when Scott looked hypothermic as he was wheeled out on a stretcher, and I don't even know the extent of Avi's injuries?