MERCS
Puff.
Puff.
Puff.
The air forces out of my lungs with such intensity, I hardly have time to catch it for myself. My lips are dry as my heart pummels against my chest with such a tenacious beat, it’s as if the devil is clawing at my skin to rip me open from the inside out.
I move up, taking my lips from Effa’s, her eyes still closed as her head sways to the side with my frantic movements. My hands race back to her chest. My fingers lace together on top of each other as I thrust down rapidly not even knowing if I’m doing it fucking right.
Pump.
Pump.
Pump.
I continue pumping for around thirty pumps and then give her another three breaths. I’m not sure if it’s correct, but it’s something I vaguely recall seeing on a flyer once. Well, the flyer said two breaths, but I want to do an extra just to make sure. Sweat races in rivulets down my temples as Andi sits back, tears slowly sliding down her face.
People are gathering around watching me as I work frantically, but I don’t care. All I care about is that Effa’s not fucking breathing, her heart has stopped, and I’m working my ass off trying to get her back, and no one is doing a damned thing to help me.
“C’mon, baby, come back to me,” I murmur, pumping furiously as I grunt out in frustration while watching her skin turn a very pasty color. “Effa. Fuck! C’mon…” I groan as I duck back down pressing my lips to hers again.
Puff.
Puff.
Puff.
Her chest rises and falls with each breath, and I hope with each movement that this will be the one to kick-start her heart back into gear.
But there’s nothing.
She’s been out for nearly two minutes, and as I pull back starting to panic, I ball my hand into a fist and bring it back down, thumping hard onto her chest. I don’t care. I know I need to get her heart started.
Effa’s body convulses with the force of my blow to her chest, and my eyes open wide as I gasp for air.
Andi sobs as I look at Effa for a sign. Anything. But she goes back to not moving, and now she appears even paler.
“Fuck! Effa… stop dying on me,” I scream, and in frustration, I slam both my fists onto her chest as hard as I possibly can. Her body convulses upward, as she finally lets out a gasp for much-needed air just as the medical team rushes through the door. I didn’t even hear them arrive or enter through the lobby—the sound of the fucking droning music teamed with my frantic beating heart are the only things I can hear.
Effa falls back to the floor as I rush my ear to her mouth. I can feel slow, uneven breathing coming from her, and I let out a relieved sigh as the medical team push in beside me and pull me out of the way.
“Sorry, I need to get to her,” the guy instructs, making me fall flat on my ass banging my back against a pole. He moves in to help Effa, while the other guy wraps a blood pressure cuff around her arm. They get to work immediately as I sit back feeling like the world’s slowly imploding around me.
All the noise seems to fade out to a persistent ringing in my ears. I can’t seem to get a fucking grip on reality as I close my eyes. There seems to be a frigid cold sweeping over my entire body, and I’m shaking. Uncontrollably. My fucking teeth chattering as I sit hoping, praying, that I did enough to pull Effa through.
“Okay, let’s get her out of here,” I faintly hear the words through the ringing in my ears.
Slowly, I open my eyes to see Effa now on a gurney and the medics wheeling her out of the foyer. She’s attached to a ventilator. It’s helping her breathe, and the sight makes me feel physically ill.
Andi looks down at me and wipes the tears from her face as the medics start to take Effa away. “I’ll come back to get you. I’ll make certain she’s in the ambulance, and ensure Alana is with her. Okay?” Andi tells me. Her words are enough to snap me out of my damn haze, and I stand up abruptly, stumbling slightly on the spot while shaking my head.
“No, I’ll go with her. You find the others and tell them. I’m not leaving her side,” I choke out.
Andi nods, pats my shoulder as she sniffs, and we follow the medics wheeling Effa through to the exit.
I move up to the side of Effa’s gurney and look down at her. Her eyes are closed like she’s simply sleeping. I don’t know what the hell damage this has done, but I hope like fuck she can pull through it because if I lose her, I won’t be able to stand it. Especially if this is because of some vendetta Jett fucking Jones has with me.
I reach out grabbing her hand and hold on tightly. She doesn’t hold me back, not that I expected her to, but I wish like fuck there was something there. Some kind of reaction. But there’s nothing. I feel numb, in a sort of shock I suppose, as I bring my hand up and wipe some hair off her face.
I gaze over at the medic and sigh. “How bad is it?”
They both look at me.
“I think once we get her to the hospital, and the doctors get a better look at her brain activity, we will know more,” he replies.
Brain activity.
Was she without oxygen for too long?
She could be brain dead for all I know.
Or, even if she does wake up, there could be issues.
Effa could be severely disabled.
She could never sing again.
She could be a vegetable.
Fuck!
How the hell did this happen?
What the fuck did Jett do to her?
All I know is, for now, I can’t think about all the pain I want to inflict on Jett—and fuck knows I want a world of hurt to rain down on that cunt for this—but for now, I need to concentrate on my girl. To support her through this—whatever the hell is happening to her—because she needs me more than my fist needs to be firmly implanted in Jett’s face.
I need to be here for Effa.
No matter the outcome.
Whatever hell is awaiting me.