You know that feeling. That feeling where it seems as though everything and everyone had come to a standstill. As though the Earth had ceased her movement and had decided to go on a break from all the lifelong rotation and revolution she had been subjected to since the beginning of time and existence.
That feeling where your heart palpitates painfully in your chest, your mind shrills deafeningly, your head throbbing like a typist punching the keys on a typewriter. All of these happening concomitantly with your every organ squalling raucously at you to do just one simple thing-run! But somehow, you couldn’t seem to move an inch.
It was as though the thing called emergency hormone or otherwise, adrenaline rush had lost its purpose in her being. As though her adrenal glands had taken a vacation from producing epinephrine or, to put it exclusively, adrenaline.
She wondered why the fight-or-flight response she was supposed to have in such a menacing situation she had found herself in had completely evanesced, leaving her to stand powerless in the suddenly cold night.
The erstwhile comfort she had initially obtained from the gentle howls of the neighborhood wind had now felt like glacial whirlwinds nipping and digging into her skin. Goosebumps rose on her skin as she began shaking gently. From fear or from the now arctic weather? She was sure it was a mixture of both.
Her stomach churned and she could feel the bile rising up her esophagus as she felt herself almost upchuck the delicious Okamase Japanese delicacy she had consumed.
She could hear the liquids in her body rushing through her veins and arteries as her heart continued to pump blood insanely; it defied the law of science that stated that a normal heart should have 60 to 100 beats per minute. She had no idea how she was still breathing or still conscious.
Certainly, if she were connected to a heart rate monitor, the entire body of medical personnels in the hospital building would be jabbing defibrillators onto her chest and probably her entire torso by now in attempts to stabilise her arrhythmic heart.
Waiting. . . Yes, waiting. . .
She waited for the pain to come but there seemed to be nothing or maybe she was just numb. Sooner or later, she would be engulfed in undeniable agony. Agony that no one would be able to ease or take away. So patiently, she awaited its presence, only to amount to no avail.
There was no pain, no agony, no blood trickle or bone shatter anywhere but oddly, the scent of blood marred the night breeze, leaving her to wonder. Or was she already in heaven amidst the angels?
If so, then it was quite weird how silent the New Jerusalem she had learned about in church as a child really was. She had always dreamt of being immediately inundated on arrival with the melodious and artistically beautiful yet expressive praise and adulation their celestial tongues sang to The Most High.
But where she was currently at wasn’t anything close to what she had imagined. Mayhap, she was in hell? She probably was being punished for her sin of always pushing people away or for unjustly hating her mother all those years without hearing both sides of the story.
The thought brought tears to her eyes as she gulped, pushing back her emotions. If that was the case, then she really did deserve to be in hell but still, hell was also oddly silent. The cries and pains of agony and anguish that was said to echo perpetually round the Gehenna as she had read in the Holy Book was benumbed by quietude.
Before her seemingly haywire brain could be further deranged, a pained groan pulled her out of the abyss of endless thoughts she had slumped into.
‘This was it. The pain was finally coming,’ she thought as she heard another groan.
Her mind began reeling in the happenings in her surroundings, trying with all of its might to regain the quantum of sanity that had evaded her mental health.
Eyebrows furrowing, heart racing, her eyes that had been tightly shut on reflex-seemingly the only thing her body could do at the moment-peeled open as she gulped. There was no pain; not even an itch.
Another groan tore through her reverie, this time around, successfully pulling her out of the trance she had fallen into. With wide eyes, her body which seemed to have been an exhibit mannequin earlier finally turned around to behold the sight of the man kneeling on one knee on the floor.
She paused as her brain attempted to take flight again after sighting the huge patch of blood on his stained jacket. Somehow managing to pinch herself really hard, she was triumphant in caging her brain within its cranium; resultantly, her legs moved.
“Mr Kale!” Her voice squeaked out hoarsely from where it had been incarcerated within the confinements of her parched throat.
Fully taking in his crouched figure, her adrenal glands finally awakened, secreting the emergency hormones with unremitting alacrity. Something it ought to have done a while back.
With frantic actions, she ran the short distance to his hunched figure and dropped to her knees beside him, ignoring the sharp pain that shot up her patellae at the impact.
“Are you ok? Oh shit! That’s a very stupid question. Of course, you’re not ok! You just got shot for fuck’s sake!” She rambled on as she placed her hands on top of his which was already soiled with the gushing pigment. He had been shot on his upper arm, mere inches from his right shoulder blade.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t react earlier. My stupid brain. . .” she slapped herself on the side of her head, leaving behind the bloody handprint of her hand on her temple. “. . . decided to desert me at the most crucial of times. I’m really sorry,” she continued.
Jordan could only watch the woman before him. A woman that had always seemed so calm and collected all the times he had met her. A woman that was never one to reveal her emotions. A woman whose eyes were never this expressive.
This same woman who had been marked by tranquility, placidity and impassiveness was now a bundle of nerves and perturbation. She was overwhelmed with the feeling of nervosity as her entire body shook.
Looking into her eyes was like looking into a mirror or river of smaragd coral reefs filled with anxiety and solicitude. Jordan had always wanted to invoke emotions in her. He had always wanted her to be more expressive around him.
Although it was for a reason still a mystery to him, he wanted to share some sense of intimacy with her. He didn’t want to be treated like a patient or client only, but this. . . this expression that was currently etched on her face wasn’t what he wanted. Yeah, she was being expressive and impassioned but this wasn’t the emotion he wanted on her face.
He didn’t want to see her in fear or panic as she was currently in. He kept staring at her face, at her now pale lips which were quivering slightly, at her emerald green eyes which were now dull with concernment as they darted about, unable to meet his own chocolate brown eyes.
“What to do. What to do. What to fucking do! Right! An ambulance! I gotta call 911 immediately,” Jordan immediately snapped out of it when he saw her reaching for her purse in attempts to find her mobile device.
“Hey, hey, hey,” she was still searching through her purse while mumbling incoherently to herself. “Miss Pearce? Miss Pearce. Miss Pearce, listen to me!” He grabbed her face in his bloodied hands, angling her face to meet his.
“Calm down, ok? You don’t need to call an ambulance,” he muttered softly.
“B-but, you’re hurt and you’re losing blood faster than a slaughtered calf. I need to do something,” she tried to pry his hands off her face but he was unyielding.
“Emerald! Listen to me,” he puffed out shakily, his attempts to sound firm failing woefully. “I’ll be fine. Just stop worrying, let’s get inside and then, you can contact my physician, ok?” His voice was unimaginably tender as he spoke; a tone he had never used with anyone before.
“B-but your injury, i-it’s-” she was interrupted by Jordan pulling her into him. He nestled his face in her neck as he gently inhaled her scent. Her alluringly bewitching fragrance wafted its way into his nose, completely chasing the pungent smell of the blood that had encased him.
“Just breathe, Emerald. I’ll be fine,” he mumbled against her neck, educing a shiver that raked through her body when she felt his warm ragged breaths tickling the hairs on her skin.
Jordan felt his eyes drooping as black spots clouded his vision. He was sleepy. The darkness was cloaking his mind but he was resisting, he was fighting because he wanted nothing more than to spend more time with her.
He wanted nothing more than to remain like this with her, if not for forever, then for as long as possible. He didn’t want to slip into unconsciousness just to wake up to her apathetic demeanor once again. But he was losing. He was losing the battle against darkness.
“Should I c-call Mrs Levine?” Emerald’s voice came out meekly as she felt his heart beating weakly against his chest where she had placed her palm due to their awkward position on the floor.
She was scared, terrified and overly disoriented, a characteristic feature that was completely contradictory to her usual composedness. Biting her lips, she couldn’t help but let herself wallow in self-blame. If she hadn’t agreed to letting him drop her off, this wouldn’t have happened. She probably would’ve been the dead one now but that was better than jeopardising the life of someone else. Someone that had done nothing but helped her.
“Emerald, do me a favour?” He asked as he felt himself slipping into voidness. She gently nodded.
“Let’s remain like this. Just for a little while,” his voice was merely a whisper in her ear.
“It feels. . . nice.” And he succumbed to the darkness. The hold he had on her waist falling loose as his head slumped to the side.
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