C A T C H 22 |BWWM|

Ch. 13 • Family Matters

Jackson, MS. October 1943
Friday, 8:12 pm

Paislee

"Daddy! Daddy!"

I yelled hopelessly into the chaotic-filled air. There were people running, groaning, and moaning coming from different areas, and still occasional shots. My hands shook, I didn't know where I was.

"Mama!–"

I fell to the ground, bending down to the sound of a bullet and to cease my fall. Muttering a quick profanity, I felt a foot under mine. It was tiny and I quickly removed my weight from the foot.

"H-Help. . .Please," The voice said.

I turned my widened eyes and ducked as another shriek filled the air. There, I was met with two teary-eyed orbs. It was a small boy—not past eight years old. There was blood running along up his shirt as I stared at him. My heart thudded louder in my ears and I could feel that pound pound pound ringing through my eardrums.

Oh, how I longed to know if my parents were okay. I wiped the lone tear from my cheek and crawled over to the boy. He was slumped over on a wall that leads to more bathrooms. His eyes almost lit up as I sat beside him.

"What's your name, bud?"

He wheezed a bit. "Abel J-Johnson"

I smiled sweetly and began to unbutton my sweater from around me. I slid over to his body and pulled him to me a bit. A wince coming from him.

"Well, Abel, I'm gonna' wrap this around you and all you gotta' do is just lean back on me and. . .talk"

"They. . .They slashed me with a pocket knife, Miss. T-Then–"

"Shhh you don't need to explain anymore bud, I got it. Just lay here Okay? Listen to my voice and don't close your eyes," I said with a shaky voice. The fear that coursed through me was nothing like before.

"But I'm so tired. . .and cold"

I prepared my sweater around his body. Wrapping the material tightly around his chest wound to stop the bleeding some. "That wasn't too bad right?"

"No, ma'am." I let his back rest against my chest as I quietly checked his body for other wounds. There was a cut in his arm but that could wait. I could feel his breathing against my own body and some parts of my pants were soaked with his blood.

I was trembling—partly because of the cold and fear—and was in dire need of some help. EMS, standby, anything.

"My name's Paislee, bud. You're gonna' be okay." Wrapping my goose-pimpled arms around him, I rocked slowly. "You're gonna' be okay."

There was no more gunshots or screams but the feeling of eery chaos still haunted the space. In the distance, I heard the wail of sirens.

"Look, Abel." I stoked his short cut hair as tears flowed down into his skin. "You hear that? You hear?"

"Mmm," He mumbled quietly. His breathing was slower and his eyes looked so tired.

"No, stay awake, bud. There comin'!"

I rocked more and pulled his small body closer to mine and put pressure on his chest. He was shaking, I was shaking. My fingertips were soon becoming slick with blood but I kept stroking his hair. He seemed calm. So calm that I almost forget that this small boy had a life to live.

"Paislee?"

"Yes. Yes?"

"My mama. . .my big brother. . .I love them"