Protector | Sequel to Protected

Stitches

"Maya! Maya!" Lucas called, running to me. I changed back and dressed into clothes pushed into my arms by a girl who ran past me.

"It's over now," he whispered, cradling me in his arms, "It's all over."

I felt the tears falling down my fast, hot and salty. I didn't cry for August's death, no, quite the opposite, I was glad that murderous coward was dead. I didn't cry for August being killed, no, I cried for me killing. It was my first kill as a wolf. My wolf blood made tearing out throats easy, but my human blood didn't.

"Maya!" Zay called, running to us.

"What is it?" I asked.

"The kids are fine," he said, and I sighed with relief, "But Riley isn't. She was badly hurt. They don't know if they can save her. Come on, she's in the Infirmary."

"No," I cried disbelievingly, tearing away from Lucas and running to the Infirmary.

Ethan blocked the door when I got there.

"Sorry, Maya, she can't have any visitors," he said apologetically.

"Get out of my way," I said, my voice venomous.

"I'm sure you're an exception," he said quickly, tripping over his foot to get out of my way.

I ran into the Infirmary and pushed the second door open. 

Riley laid on the bed, unconscious. Her shirt had been cut away from her to reveal the hideous gashes all over her stomach and chest. I couldn't even see the cuts, only the blood that was spilling like a fountain from her body. Her lip was split in two places, and her jaw sat at an odd angle.

"What happened?" I shrieked, tears drenching my face as I fell to my knees next to her bed.

"The front of the car crushed around the tree and splintered. The metal shredded her stomach and chest, and then the airbag broke her jaw," Thea explained.

"Will she be okay?" I asked, my voice breaking.

"I don't know. We have blood units connected to three veins, she's losing so much blood," she said, studying Riley critically, "Do me a favor and apply some steady pressure to this one; it's the deepest," she handed me a large towel and indicated one of the bigger scratches on her stomach.

Biting my lip, more tears spilling from my eyes, I pressed the towel to the wound. Immediately, a dark crimson stain spread across the white cotton. I pressed my eyes shut so I wouldn't have to see all of the blood.

Thea mopped the blood from Riley's chest and, with a towel in each hand, stemmed the flow of two more cuts. I grabbed another towel off of the table and applied pressure to a fourth cut. By then, most of the others were just big scratches.

Farkle came running into the Infirmary, his face alight with abject terror and panic. He whispered something in Thea's ear. She chewed on her lip, then gave one curt nod. I watched as Farkle retrieved something from a drawer: a needle and thread. No. He was going to give her stitches.

I squeezed my eyes shut. But still, damn my heightened sense of hearing, I could hear the needle poke through her skin and I could hear the thread go swish as it was pulled through layers of skin. I felt bile in my throat, but I swallowed it back. I could not throw up right now. I opened my eyes again as I heard the snip of thread being cut. One of the big cuts was sewed up tightly. I sighed with relief. One down... two dozen to go.

As Farkle stitched the wounds together carefully and neatly, my stomach became less sensitive. Farkle had taken a yearlong medical course for fun at a nearby college. We didn't think he had the stomach for it, but he was apparently good in an emergency.

When Farkle was finished, Riley looked like some Frankenstein from her neck to her waist. But otherwise, she was still Riley.

I dropped into a chair and curled up into a ball.