You Before Me |Neymar Jr.|

Chapter 28

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Natalia's POV

"Putain, putain, putain!" I swore angrily. I shrugged of my sweater leaving me with a back racerback tank. I wrapped the sweater around my arm and used it to get rid of the glass surrounding the window. I reached Inside attempting to find the lock. I tugged at the door but it wouldn't move. Giving up on that, I decided pulling him out the window was the best option. My hands shook as I fumbled with the seat belt. I held my arm flush against Neymar's chest, preventing him from falling. I supported his weight as I unclipped the buckle. He let out a groan of pain as I tried to help him out of the car. I successfully got him out after 5 minutes and later him out on the ground. 
"You're okay. You're okay," I whispered repeatedly, smoothing his hair back. A layer of sweat coated his forehead, pressing his curls against his skin.
"It hurts." He managed to say.
"Where? What hurts?"
He pointed to his thigh. I suppressed a gasp seeing the wound. Flesh peeked through his black jeans that had turned a shade darker from the blood. I was about to grab my jacket and apply pressure on it when I noticed something glinting. A single .44 caliber bullet. I prayed that it hadn't nicked an artery but as blood continued to spurt out, I realised it had.  At this point I was panting as hard as he was from the effort of getting him out of the car. But fortunately, the adrenaline rush was still coursing through me. I sat on my knees with his leg in between mine and pressed down on the wound in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding. The blood created intricate patterns In the material as it seeped into the white cloth. He grabbed my hand making me look up to his face. His hazel-green eyes were wide showing shock.  I looked into his eyes and repeated the words i had been saying.
"Your fine. It's going to be okay. Just relax."
His hand found it's way to mine and he covered it. The action brought a feeling of warmth to spread from my hand throughout my body. I gave him a meek smile, trying not to show my panic. But the smile dropped when a cough escaped his mouth. Drops of blood spattered onto my hand.  More blood foamed in his mouth and more coughs came. This shouldn't be happening. He's injured in his thigh. I thought to myself. I lifted up his shirt only to find a gash in his lower abdomen. It seemed to be from the seatbelt. I finally heard the sirens off in the distance. Within less than a minute, the police and ambulance had pulled up.

"Mademoiselle, laisse-le partir," a paramedic said firmly gripping my arm. Miss, let him go.
"No, vous ne comprenez pas! Je ne peux!" No, you don't understand! I can't!

"I-I can't. Leave him," I choked, gasping for air. It felt almost like a snake had wrapped itself around my chest and was constricting it.

"Come with me," one of the medics commanded, supporting me as I got up. He held my upper arm as I stumbled towards the yellow and blue painted vehicle.

"She's in shock," he informed his colleague as she shined a light in my eyes.

Me? In shock? I'm trained for shock that's impossible.

I sat there staring at her for a solid minute before she glanced over at the other medic uncertainly. All I could think about was Neymar. If I hadn't let him go so easily, he wouldn't have gotten hurt.

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45 minutes later, I found myself in the hospital, anxiously pacing the floor. I resorted to fiddling with my fingers after I had cracked all my knuckles. I whipped my head to the door as a doctor exited Ney's room.

"Is he okay?" I asked.

"Come with me."

I followed him into a room with grey chairs, grey walls, and grey, everything.

"He has a minor concussion and a gash and bruising in his torso," he began.

"He also has a gunshot wound in his leg that nicked an artery but thankfully it's not as bad as it could be."

"Will he be okay though?"

"It's hard to say, we've put him in a medical induced coma because of his concussion." (A/N I have no idea what I'm talking about here. Idk if ppl get put into comas for concussions. I just watch a lot of crime TV shows & Grey's Anatomy so 🤷‍♀️)

"C-can I see him," I asked. The doctor nodded and led me into the room. Neymar lay there on the hospital bed, his eyes closed. I took a seat beside him, holding his hand. The doctor left the room, shutting the door.

"Neymar? It's me, Natalia. I need you to wake up okay," I whispered, biting my lip. A stinging pain traveled from my throat to my nose making my eyes tear up as I tried not to cry. God Natalia, can't even do one thing right. Maybe they were right, I'm good for nothing. I looked up at the ceiling trying to force the tears back into my eyes. A weak attempt, I know. There was a knock at the door, catching my attention. I took a shaky breath and opened the door. There stood Thomas Tuchel. The expression on his face said it all. He was not happy.

"What happened?" he barked at the doctor who glared at him before explaining. Then he turned to me.

"How could you let this happen?" he asked. That's what I've been asking myself. I thought but didn't voice my thoughts, staring at my shoes. I already knew. That all this. Was my fault.

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