Page 58 of Breaking Matt

The panic overwhelmedme as tears blurred my vision. Matthew groaned and clutched his hand over the wound. I wanted to close my eyes and push the horror scene away. I wanted it to be a nightmare I would wake up from. But I wasn't dreaming.

A crowd gathered around us. One guy had a phone out and he was calling an ambulance.

"You can't die on me," I whispered to him as he closed his eyes. His breathing was labored. A pool of blood had started to form around him. There was so much blood.

"Please," I whispered.

He opened his eyes.

"Call Mark," he said, his eyes pleading with mine.

Call Mark. The instruction echoed in my mind. Then I remembered he'd programmed Mark's number into my phone in case I needed it. Somehow I got my phone out and searched for Mark's number. My hands were shaking so bad it took me a few tries before I found it and I hit the call button. Blood stained the screen.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"It's... It's Matthew," I tried to explain as I gripped the phone.

"Where are you?" he asked, the light tone gone after he heard the panic in my voice.

"Front," I answered. My thoughts were so jumbled it was easier to stick to one-word answers.

"I'll be there in three minutes," he said and the call disconnected.

"He's on his way," I whispered to Matthew.

His face was etched in pain and I wanted to be able to take it away. I would suffer it for him.

"I need you to keep pressure on the wound," he whispered to me, still with his eyes closed.

There was no arguing. I gritted my teeth and as he removed his hand on the bullet wound, I pressed my hand down on it. The warmth of his blood wet my hand.

"It'll be okay," I said to him. "It'll be okay." If I said it enough times out loud, it would make it a reality. I tried to swallow the emotion clogged in my throat as I fixed my eyes on his pale face.

I couldn't lose him.

If I'd been strong enough to let him go, this wouldn't have happened. Guilt overwhelmed me as tears slid down my face. I had been too weak to do what had been best for him. He was in pain because of my inability to put him before myself.

In that moment, I hated myself. I hated that I'd been so selfish. There was a chance he could die and that I would lose him forever.

Please let him live, I thought over and over again. If he lived I promised I would let him go. Even if it killed me, I would put his life above mine and I would walk away.

Matthew's eyes fluttered closed and I squeezed my eyes shut to stop the hysteria from rising. When Mark arrived, I felt a little relief.

"How bad is it?" he asked as he rushed through the crowd and bent down to examine his wounded friend.

"I don't know," I answered honestly. I had never seen anyone get shot before.

"Hang in there," he said to Matthew, but he didn't respond.

He lifted my hands for a moment and examined the wound before applying pressure to it. I wiped the blood on my hands on my clothes, but nothing would wipe the guilt away.

There was a rush of activity when the paramedics arrived. They began to work on him and I stepped back to let them do their job.

"He'll be okay," Mark assured me as he put an arm around me to keep me steady. I didn't know whether he was telling the truth or just saying it to make me feel better. I leaned against him and closed my eyes for a moment.

"We'll follow them," he said as the paramedics put Matthew in the ambulance.

I shook my head. There was no way I was leaving him alone.