My eyelids have never felt so heavy. I fight, but I feel they’re weighted and the mere action of opening my eyes is tiresome. But when I do, I find myself staring and I realize that I’m flat on my back, but my body feels as if it isn’t mine. The initial shock of the stabbing must have knocked me out and whatever has happened since is nonexistent to me.
Now that I’m awake, I’m in an entirely new world of pain. As I come to my senses, I feel my body convulse, trying to resist the urge to give up. I find my breathing becoming shallower as my heart rate races to circulate less and less blood around my body. I close my eyes once more before fighting them back open. I need to get help. Manuel needs help. I need help. I can’t just fucking lie here.
Opening my eyes once more, I stare at the ceiling waiting for my mind to slow and allow me to make more sense than I am right now. I feel scattered as my brain toys with a million things at once.
As I seem to come to take note of the room I’m in, I’m overtaken by the screaming to my right, the one that makes it over the noise of my heartbeat, and that’s when I smell it - blood permeates my nostrils and it's all I can smell. The rich stench of copper has never smelled viler than it does right now and as I try to move, to turn my head away from the offending odor, I find the scent only getting stronger. With drowsy eyes, I scan the floor and I see Manuel's quivering body. His eyes are closed as he lays only a few feet away, his hand still outstretched for me.
“What the fuck have you done?” Enzo’s voice bellows from my right. I can’t tell what he really feels as I hear the distinctive notion of anger meddled with tears. “Gio, look at them both! Gio!” he screams and I hear what sounds like a scuffle between the two men. “You have to let me get to them!”
“No,” Giovanni screams. “They deserve this!”
“No, they don’t!” Enzo fights back, gritting his teeth.
I turn my head and see my brothers. Although Enzo is poised ready for a fight, I also notice blood on him. His face is scrunched up in pain, and I see sweat bead his forehead. My mind rallies around scenarios, but all I can deduce is that he’s been hurt, too. That it isn’t my blood or Manuel’s or my own on him, the pattern from it tells me it’s his. My eyes struggle to focus on the patches, but I can just make out rips in the material.
Moving my head back, I know I have to assess the damage caused to me so I can help Manuel. I lower my hands down my own body, shakily moving them inch by delicate inch until all I feel is the warmth of my own blood. I survey the damage before I struggle to move, my hands splayed over my wounds to cover them the best I can manage on my own. I push my body until I’m on my knees.
“Amelia, don’t move!” Enzo exclaims, but he grunts from what I can only assume is Giovanni attacking.
“No, no, no,” I mumble, hearing Enzo’s body collapse while Giovanni laughs out relentlessly. This cannot be happening! I look back, torn between both brothers, but Manuel’s been bleeding out more and I regrettably turn my back on Enzo to crawl toward my baby brother. “Manuel,” I murmur softly, falling down onto my side. My entire body cannot sustain my own weight and the movements have only caused me to bleed heavier, the blood running through my fingers.
I lay staring at Manuel as he remains unconscious, his blood encroaching on my own pool of blood and I hate I’m unable to help. My entire being craves to help my brothers, but in my brother helping me, he wound up hurt and now he’s no longer crying out for me or Manuel. I know this moment for Enzo, Manuel, and myself is dangerous, and while I’m the only one awake, I know full well I’m a vulnerable target.