Help Me

What To Do

Mikey

His breath seemed to freeze in his lungs every time he inhaled. He'd stopped sobbing some minutes ago, and now he lay shivering on the floor. His shirt and jumper had been ripped open, so the minute his senses returned to him he pulled off the pieces to his jumper and pressed them tightly against the stab wound on his waist.
He was losing blood, and fast.

Now he was in a predicament. He hated asking for help... He loathed the idea, knowing that everytime he did so a little piece of him died on the inside. Mikey valued pride, and he knew that by asking for help he would lose it.

Crying silently, Mikey made his free hand fumble in his pocket for his phone, groaning when he saw that the screen had cracked.
He tried to type in the code one handed, but it was so cold, and he was shivering so much, that he unintentionally dropped it, and he rested his head against the floor. He then breathlessly, and slowly, unlocked his phone, before pulling up his contacts.

His most recent was Brooklyn. His finger hovered over the call button, but he couldn't let himself press call.
Instead, he decided that that would be the absolute last resort.

Every breath he took seemed to momentarily freeze his lungs, and he knew that his while body was shivering from the cold.
He lay on the floor for a few seconds, just regaining his bearings, before he tied to move his leg.
Unexplainable agony rippled through his veins, and he felt his throat tear at the intensity of his scream. It kept on throbbing minutes after, and every cut on his body ached, yet they were slowly becoming numb.
The stab wound created a pain that burried itself deep into his body, a pain that would stay with him for a long time after today.

Mikey couldn't move. He physically couldn't move. He'd wanted to try to get himself home, and patch himself up, and now he knew how unrealistic his plan had been.
He could die out here, and none of the boys even knew where he was.

Giving up, he let his whole body slump to the floor. Tears still fell from his eyes, and his whole face crumpled in defeat when he realised that he'd have to call for help.
Taking a few deep breaths, he tried to calm himself down slightly before his finger pressed call, and made sure that it was on speaker phone. Mikey curled his hand into himself, trying to warm it up.

It rang five times, and in that time his shivering had increased tenfold.
"Mikey? It's nearly 4 in the morning..." Brook groggily spoke. Hearing his voice broke something deep inside him, and he covered his mouth with his hand to prevent himself from sobbing.
"Mikey?" He couldn't say anything. He knew he would break down if he tried to open his mouth.

He heard Brook shifting around through the line. "Where are you?" He sounded much more awake now.
"Brook?" Mikey whispered unevenly, closing his eyes. He breathed heavily again, whimpering when his knee throbbed.
"Mikey?" He asked again, and this time the concern was evident in his voice. Mikey hated the concern...
"Can... Can you come and get me?" He asked quietly, but froze when he heard footsteps.

Or perhaps he was paranoid. He didn't hear what Brooklyn was saying, too intent on listening with bated breath.
Nothing.

"Mikey... Mikey!" Brook shouted, and Mikey tuned back in, feeling himself break down. Huge sobs wracked his body, and his whole body shuddered with the intensity, whimpering and crying out in pain as his wounds became irritated. He felt a fresh round of blood coat his hand.
"Brook." He sobbed again, and voices could be distantly heard through the phone, loud and panicked.

"Mikey! Mate, listen to me! Calm down... We're coming, we're all coming to get you." Mikey heard, and the sobs quietened somewhat, but he was still crying. Shame flooded his veins, even though there was much more important things to be worrying about.
"Tell us where you are." Brook said loudly, and he felt his head grow foggy, the pain at the back of his head growing into more than just a headache.
Mikey let out another sob, before taking a few deep breaths, drifting...

"Mikey? Where are you?" He shouted, Brooks voice bringing Mikey back into focus.
"I-I don't know Brooky... I don't know where I am!" The hysteria rose in him again, and he felt his heartbeat rise, pumping the fear and shock and coldness around his body faster and faster. It was all he could think about.

"Mikey! Mikey, are you there! Can you hear me?"
Mikey gasped, feeling his whole body tremble. He was still in shock. The cold seeped into his bones, and he felt his eyes slip shut, blinking slowly...

"Mikey?" He blinked rapidly, rubbing his eyes with his free hand, wincing as he remembered his swollen one.
"Brooky... I'm so tired..." Mikey slurred, too tired to even hold his head up, letting it hit the floor gently.
"No! Mikey... Whatever you do don't fall asleep!" Brook yelled.

Mikey didn't really hear him. He was in a state of confusion, drifting in and out, not really knowing what was going on, knowing only the cold, and the pain, and the lightheadedness that came hand in hand with the blood loss. Blinking groggily, he looked up, seeing the sky begin to lighten up. The darkness around him began to dwindle, and the hand pressed over his deep wound slipped from its hold, falling limply to the floor.

He was just so tired... So so tired... And cold...
He hoped the boys found him. Jack, and Brook, and Andy, and Rye...
He smiled when he thought of Rye, closing his eyes as he thought of the journey they'd had together... How long they'd known eachother... How they were best friends...

For the first time he felt at peace, and for the first time that morning Mikey's body stopped shaking. The floor was strangely comfy, and warm, the warmth slowly spreading beneath him... But why was it wet? Was the warmth so wet? And so sticky?

He was conscious enough to hear Brooks hysterical voice through the phone, and the sound of thundering footsteps.

"Guys! I see him... Mikey... We can see you..."

And then it all went white for a few seconds, Mikey's hand twitching on the floor as he tried with all his strength to move...
He was too weak... He was so weak...

Pathetic.