It wasn't enough though.
She was not out of the woods.
She could bleed to death, or her lung could collapse.
Sam took one of her hands in his and held it to his lips. She was so cold. He wanted to pick her up and hold her in his arms, somehow forcing his own life inside her, to keep her alive until help arrived.
He wanted to will her to live, to keep fighting, to not give up, but all he could do was kneel helplessly beside her and pray.
“Come on, Naomi,” he whispered. “Don’t give up. Don’t give up on me. You're so strong, I know you can do this. You just have to fight. Please. I can't lose you.”
* * * * *
5:33 P.M.
Someone was holding her hand.
That was the first thought that occurred to her.
The second was that her chest was filled with a sharp, stabbing sensation.
Naomi tried to remember what had happened, but it was too hard.
Even breathing was too hard.
She wanted to just give in, let death take her, she was so tired, it would be so nice to just rest.
But then lips brushed across her knuckles.
Sam.
She knew it was him.
She could hear his voice, but she couldn’t make out the words he was saying.
She could feel what he was saying though.
He was begging her to live.
Pleading with her to keep fighting.
Naomi wanted to do as he asked, but she wasn't sure she could.
She wanted to tell him that she would try, that she would fight for as long as she could, but she couldn’t seem to be able to make herself answer.
There were other voices too. They’d found her. She wanted to ask about her stepfather, make sure he really was dead. But try as she might her voice wouldn’t cooperate.
Her body wouldn’t cooperate either.
Each breath was a struggle.
She had a floaty feeling that she was dying.
She couldn’t die yet though.
She hadn’t told Sam that she loved him. What if he didn’t know? Fear had kept her from saying the words, but what was fear when she was dying? She couldn’t die until she’d told him, she wouldn’t.
Focusing every bit of energy she could scrounge up, she managed to blink her eyes open.