Learning All Things Owen Jackson

Chapter IV

"What on Earth happened?" I murmured out, pulling him into the house and quickly locking the front door.

"I'm in trouble," he breathlessly said, heaving out pained exhales.

"Yeah I can see that," I replied, leading him into the living room. "Take a seat. I'll be right back."

I headed to the kitchen and also locked the back door before opening the cupboard above the kitchen counter for the medical kit.

Once my hand grabbed onto the red box, I made a beeline to the living room and found him sitting on the sofa.

"Where are your parents?" He asked before hissing in pain.

"My parents separated so my father's moved out," I responded, closing the curtains, "and my mother's...out."

"How long until she's back?" He enquired.

I stopped my movements and quickly thought up a reply. "Uh, not until next week; she's at my aunt's for the week."

"I thought you didn't have an aunt?" He said in confusion, scrunching up his face.

"I don't," I answered quickly. "Well biologically I don't."

Kneeling on the floor beside the sofa, I took out the rubbing alcohol and chuckled quietly under my breath.

"What is it?" He asked, looking at me weirdly.

"I feel like a nurse. I had to tend to Vanessa's wounds this morning as well."

Slowly, I lifted up his shirt and looked at his wound in astonishment.

"Jesus, Owen, did you get stabbed?" I gasped out, recoiling from the revolting bloody wound.

He nodded, biting onto his lower lip.

"I mean I hate you. A lot," I said, almost chuckling. "But these guys must loathe you!"

"Can you just help me please?" He begged, his face becoming paler by the minute. "Before I die from fucking blood loss."

"You're going to need stitches. Something I can't help you with," I informed him, fearing for his reply. "You need to go to the hospital!"

"No." He shook his head frantically, eyes swirling with fear. "Going to the hospital will only make matters worse!"

"Don't be stupid, Owen," I said. "You're fucking bleeding out!"

Digging out some clean dry cloth, I begin to unravel it so I can apply pressure to the wound and clot the blood.

As I carefully wrapped him up to add pressure to the wound, I heard Owen hiss out a breathy pained noise.

"Sorry," I muttered.

"Ok, I think I have an idea: there is someone I can call," he said, slipping his hand into his pockets and bringing out a piece of paper.

Noticing the hardened look upon my face, he sighed out and handed me the slip of paper.

"They're not apart of the gang, thankfully. But they're not entirely...clean if you will," he replied quietly.

I scoffed but I looked down at the piece of paper, nonetheless.

"Henry's a good friend of mine. He used to be a doctor before he gave up his job to become a full-time dad," he said, as if that piece of information was reassuring to me.

"That's nice of him." I pulled out my mobile phone and began to put in the numbers that were scrawled, awfully might I add, on the paper.

The dialing tone stopped shortly and a gruff voice sounded through the phone, "Hello?"