Writing Clips

Hidden Wound

      I stifle a groan of pain. Can't let them know. The wound in my side hurts, red-hot pain, making me want to scream in pain, but I don't. I'm too worried about my team. If they find out that I took a hit for them, they'd be worried. Not only that, but they'd be harder to keep distance from. It is so much easier when they all just think I'm a major, selfish bitch.

A wave of needles hits, the pain in my side causing me to whimper slightly. Shh, shh. Thankfully, I'm far enough behind them that they couldn't hear. I push my hand against my side harder, clenching my teeth in pain, as I struggle to staunch the bleeding. A glance down reveals a trail of blood, having dripped onto the concrete as I walked.

"Ugh, what is taking you so long!?" James shouts to me from ahead, irritated by my lagging. As far as the rest of them were aware, I barely sustained a scratch, not having fought at all. Little did they know.

"I'm coming, I'm coming! Give me a break," I whine, "my feet hurt!" Groans are audible from the rest of the group.

"Oh my Goddess, Ashe, so do the rest of ours! Suck it up and hurry up unless you want us to leave you behind!"

I pick up the pace, ignoring as much pain as I can in order to go at a normal pace. They can't know. Knowing will make them worry, and worry will get them killed. Like the last ones.

Catching up to them, I stay in the back of the group. Pain is still sparking through my side, adrenaline having long worn off, but I brush it off in hope they don't notice.

I can hear faint footsteps behind us. He's catching up-- screw it.

"Guys, I can hear him behind us!" I say, panic slightly evident in my voice. Don't let him catch me, I don't want to deal with that again. I can't deal with that again.

(Inspiration for this one came from tumblr writer write-it-motherfuckers)