I knew it wasn't his fault that we were stuck like this. And it was the deer's fault, I knew, but he just rolled his eyes and gave me some stupid look whenever I mentioned the deer. The stupid thing wandered out right in the middle of the highway. I don't kill animals, alright Noah? I swerve to the side and crash into ditches instead.
I wonder what would have happened if I didn't make it up in time at that ditch. Would Noah and I still be unscathed? Were we unscatched? I didn't really think about. Now that I had thought about it, my leg was sort of scratchy and tingly around my calve, but I didn't think anything of it. I stopped for a moment, and Noah stopped too, curious to see what I was doing. I rolled up my pantleg.
Blood was spilling out from a large gash on my leg, and my eyes widened, and Noah slapped his hand over his mouth. My pants were black, so it must have been difficult to see the large red stain pouring from my leg.
And the air hit the wound like a thousand knives. I let out a scream, and Noah immediately rushed to my side. To be honest I didn't mean to let out a scream, btu the pain was so awful that it was hard to ignore. I kept my tongue between my teeth as Noah ripped off a part of his shirt in the next minute. I heard the ripping noise and I winced. I hated the sound of something ripping.
The piece he had tore wasn't large enough to really cover up all the blood, and I couldn't really see the gash. There was a long line with dried blood caked around it reaching from the lower part of the back of my thigh to my ankle, and I assumed that was the gash. He couldn't very well wrap it around the entire wound, so I gasped as he took off his entire sweater.
He had a shirt under it, and it clung to him and I watched him shiver. The bitter frost had attached itself to leaves and grass, and the shirt was light and I knew Noah was going to freeze. I could just pull down my pant leg and everything would be fine and dandy. I mentioned this to Noah. And he ignored me.
"My god," I heard him say, and he wrapped the hoodie around my leg and I didn't really know what to do from there. It was a large bulk that I couldn't pull my pants down over, so I was forced to walk with it. It didn't weigh me down or anything, but it did look ridiculous. But it also applied pressure to my gash and prevented the blood from spilling out. I was grateful for that.
Noah sighed with relief when he was finished tying a knot with the sleeves around my leg. I wobbled a little big as I moved my leg, and Noah looked at me. I looked back. It be honest, it was sort of awkward.
We continued to walk on into the forest, through the trees and over twigs and branches. We had to have been walking for a half hour or so, and we only had so much time until the sun fell. I suggested to Noah that we should go and look for a ride. He said we should keep walking and wait a couple more minutes. I asked why.
"Because," he began, and paused. Then he put his hand on my shoulder and rocked me a little bit. "I like spending quality time with you." He grinned at me, and I hid my red face my turning in the other direction. Screw him. He was awful.
I mumbled "whatever," and kept walking, my feet crunching with every step. I didn't really look at where I was going until I tripped over something, and I looked at Noah expecting him to laugh. He wasn't laughing. His face was pale, his lips were red, and his eyes were wide. He kept staring at my feet.
I looked down. And I stumbled backwards and fell onto the ground, and I pushed myself away, farther and farther, my eyes stinging with tears, until I couldn't look anymore. "Oh God," I screamed, and I hid my face behind my hands and arms and legs and whatever else I could find. I didn't want to look. I couldn't look.
I heard Noah's shaky breath, and I looked up to find him staring at me. I slowly, slowly got up and shuffled over to him, and I quietly wrapped my hands around his arm and squeezed it tighter. And tighter. And I started to cry and I didn't bury my head into his arm, because I didn't want him to feel strange, btu I couldn't really think about anything write now. I just sat there pathetically and sniffled with my face wet and my cheeks red and clammy.
Noah released his arm and wrapped both his arms around my waist, and I didn't care. I let him do whatever he wanted. I fumbled with my hands and ending up just grabbing his arm again. I shut my eyes. "Fuck," he whispered in my ear, and I just dropped my head on his shoulder.
The man's legs were gruesome, pieces of bone peaking out of his legs. Insects had already begun to feast on his pale, bloodied skin, and the organs spilling out. I didn't want to look at his face. All I had seen from the angle I had fallen was his torn shirt and his mutilated hands, and both his arms wrenched and broken behind his back. The smell was unbearable.
I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to stare, but my eyes found themselves looking at the man every couple seconds, and I wanted to throw up. I didn't want to smell him anymore. It was shoving itself deep inside my throat and making my insides feel hot and disgusting. Noah held me tighter when he looked up with me. He buried his head in my neck. He looked petrified. I couldn't blame him.
Do I do anything? I can't call the police. Do I call a car over? Do I leave him alone? I started whispering incomprehensible questions in Noah's direction, and he looked up a little bit and into my eyes. His eyes looked scared and lost and he looked frightened. The rude, angry Noah was long gone. He was the Noah I had met that night again, the Noah that was wondrous and was small and was innocent. But instead his mood was changed. He was scared. And I didn't want Noah to be scared. I didn't really have much time to think about Noah and how scared he was. What I really wanted to think about was what to do. "Noah," I breathed, my voice almost raspy. He coughed and I felt my body pulse against his. "What, what…" I swallowed. I could feel the tears starting to threaten to fall. I didn't care. "Do we leave him?"
I felt Noah stiffen. He was probably contemplating the same thing. If we left him, I would probably feel guilty for the rest of my life. I didn't want to know who he was or how he died, but I didn't want somebody else to find him. I didn't want somebody else to have to go through what I went through.
"I don't know," he said. I didn't know either. I couldn't fathom what could have possibly happened to him. His head, now that I had seen it, was almost ripped completely from his neck, and his hear was almost completely read. A pool of dried blood stuck to the leaves. I couldn't believe I didn't notice the smell. It made my eyes water.
The man's fingers were completely torn apart, with some missing and some just ripped apart, the finger nails off and the palm drenched with blood and popped veins. I hid myself inside Noah's neck again. I didn't want to look. I could tell Noah didn't really know what to do, as he was awkwardly patting my back with clouds of frost making my ear go red. I could feel his body shivering against me.