Page 121 of The Publicity Stunt

I’m yelling out her name. Crying. I can barely hear my own voice over all the noise.

Sirens blare in the distance.

Everything is happening in slow motion.

Someone tries prying her out of my arms.We need to stop the bleeding, they tell me. Tears trickle down my face. Or maybe it’s blood. I don’t know anymore.

But I don’t let go of her. I can’t.

She’s not awake yet. I can’t leave her alone. She needs to wake up first. I try telling them but no one is listening.

Logan is still in the car.

April.

He’s still in the front seat.

April, wake up.

My whole body is crying.

April, please wake up.

I close my eyes.

Please.

They stay closed for a while.

A while.

* * *

It’s been four hours.

The moment we stepped through the hospital doors, April was set on a stretcher. There was blood all over the white sheets. I tried following them to wherever the fuck they were taking her, but they didn’t let me. It took me a while to realize I was bleeding too. But I just needed stitches. Which means all the blood over my shirt was April’s.

The doctors said she’s going to be fine.

She’s going to be fine.

I’ve been sitting by her bed for four hours.

“Parker,” a familiar voice says. I blink sluggishly. The voice repeats, “Parker?”

When I try opening my eyes, everything is out of focus. My vision is blurry. My arms and legs are heavy. There are shadows, dark and light. A bed. The smell of bleach is ripe.

My eyes snap open.

I know that voice.

“April?” I whisper, my own voice raspy.

When she says my name again, instant tears build in my eyes. Her hand goes to her head. The movement pulls on the IV stand. She glances up, confusion slathered all over her face. Her eyes move back to me. “Wh-what … what happened—”

It takes a single stride for me to close the distance between us and I pull her into a hug. “We got in an accident … it was …” I shake my head and tighten my arms around her, not giving a single fuck if I’m hurting her right now.You’re alive. “Fuck, April, don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

“My face …” she mumbles. “I can’t feel it.”