Stranded Page #2

• Essay

								

“I don’t know but she’s gonna bleed out if we don’t do something,” I say struggling to think about what will happen if we mess up. I can and will not watch another person bleed to death. Without thinking I glance at the blood and like a hurricane images take over my mental state. All of a sudden I’m back at my beat-up house in the bathroom screaming and crying, calling 911, blood soaking through my clothing, and no matter what I did the blood wouldn’t stop flowing. I think about the sticky warm feeling it left on my hands for months after. I try to stop, to turn my mind away from seeing it but it rushes back too quickly. I know what’s going to happen but it’s like being on top of a roller coaster, you can’t stop what you’ve started. The memory won’t stop flashing as I try to get rid of it, my mom’s hair matted to the side of her face, and her arms and legs crossed with slits, deep gashes oozing blood. ‘Get out of my mind’ I scream, dirty rotten bile rushing from my stomach to my throat, ‘It wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t save her.’, but I will save Lilah, she doesn’t want to die like my mother-did.  
“We have to find something to stop the bleeding, a t-shirt and ice would do,” I say remembering all the tricks I learned taking care of my dad and aunt growing up. 
“I have a spare shirt in the backseat of the Jeep and you’re Stanley is back there also,” Jane says finally getting control of her emotions, going from hysterical to hero.
“That’ll work,” I say as I climb into the back seat careful not to touch Lilah on the left side of the car. I find the OR Stanley and the shirt inside her cheer duffel bag. Oh shoot I forgot we had practice on Monday. It doesn’t matter now though I think to myself all that matters is that we get out of here alive. First things first we need to stop the bleeding and then one of us can go for help. 
“What are you going to do?” Jane asks.
“I’m going to rip the shirt up into strips and push it into the wound's side to imitate the skin and then I’m going to put some ice on the sides to slow down the bleeding,” I say grimacing at what I have to do. 
“I’m going to puke, I can’t watch,” Jane says as she turns away. I take a deep breath and easily tear the shirt into thick strips. Luckily she was dressed in one of her more showy crop tops so the wound was not covered by a shirt. Holding back vomit I get closer to the wound and stuff the strips so that the cut is padded full of cotton. Once her side looks like a chewed-up teddy bear with its stuffing everywhere I spread the ice around on her stomach. She groans in what I hope is discomfort and not pain. “You’ll be okay Lilah, I promise,” I say as the tears threaten to take over. She makes some sound which I hope means ‘I know’ 
“What’s next?” Jane says, putting back on her courageous disguise, cloaking her real feelings. 
“We find help,” I respond, dreading what comes next. One of us has to leave to find help and I don’t think Jane has the stomach to stay here with Lilah. I will never forgive myself for what happened here in this car, what my responses caused, the guilt cripples me leaving me feeling broken but what comes next is Jane risking her safety for all of us. I do not want to have to ask her to do that. 
“What do you need me to do?” Jane asks. She has no clue what she just got herself into. 
“One of us has to go back to the highway and flag down a car,” I say, fear and guilt spreading through every limb of my body weighing me down. 
“REAGAN IT’S 3 IN THE MORNING! DO YOU KNOW WHERE WE ARE? THERE’S BEEN 7 MURDERS IN THE LAST DAY ALONE.” Jane screams in pure terror, her anger issues kicking in. 
“I know.” I cry. We left last night for the concert, even though we knew we would have to drive through the ghetto areas of Detroit in the dead of the night. ‘I’m so stupid’ I mentally repeat, ‘Stupid and selfish’ 
“I don’t want either of us to go there alone,” Jane whispers, barely getting the words out. Horrified terror is evident on her face, it’s etched into every single line and dip. 
“I’ll go,” I say. I can’t make her do this. If anyone is gonna have to do this, I’ll do it. I don’t know when I decided I wouldn’t let her go, it was probably when I saw the pure trepidation on her face, but nothing in this world will make me risk another of my friend’s lives. 
“You can’t. It’s suicide.” Jane replies. 
“What else is there to do?” I whisper.
“You can-You can- save her yourself-try our phones again-I DON’T KNOW-not that-never that.” Jane cries, hysterically. 
“It’s okay Jane. I’ll be fine, just watch over Lilah, and make sure nothing else happens. Okay?” I say hugging her.
“Okay,” Jane says, tears coming to her eyes. She looks guilty but none of this was her fault.
“This isn’t your fault, okay? I’ll fix it.” I say, trying to comfort her. 
“Okay, I understand,” Jane replies, putting a half-hearted smile on her face. 
“I’m going to go back to the highway and flag down a car. We didn’t roll down too far, it should only be about a 10-minute walk. I’ll be back in an hour with help.” I say, stirring all the courage in my bones to muster enough to go. 
“Be safe. I’ll take care of Lilah.” Jane responds, smiling brighter than a star. That right there is what gave me the courage to start walking. I jogged and jogged until I could no longer see our car but could hear the cars on the highway. The second the cars became almost visible, I broke into a full-blown sprint, adrenaline pumping through my veins. ‘Everything will be okay.’ I say to myself, grinning like an idiot. I was climbing up the gravel slope now. Readying myself to wave and scream until someone pulls over and that's exactly what I do. I must look like one of those blown-up dolls they put in front of car washes with the way I was hopping up and down. I was screaming at the top of my lungs for help and I don’t plan on stopping until someone else does. 
“Are you okay?” I hear someone scream from one of the cars zipping past. I whip my head in all possible directions to find the source. 
“No, I need help!” I yell back as I see the source of the concern. God was on my side, a police car had pulled over. 
“What happened?” a police officer still in work uniform asked as he exited his car and approached me. I couldn’t help but think how random and unimportant this must be to all the other cars on the road, but this was life or death for me. 
“Me and my friends crashed our car about an hour ago. One of them is seriously hurt. I went to look for help.” I say, rushing the words out, the idea of being saved making me feel like I was floating. 
“Okay, I’ll call it in right now. Would you mind taking me to the scene?” the police officer said as he got on his radio to call in the accident. 
“I’ll take you right now!” I basically yell, running back into the woods, the cop right at my heels. 
“Slow down!” he yells. 
“Sorry, she just needs help, it’s urgent,” I say, embarrassment flooding my cheeks. ‘Good thing, it’s dark’ 

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