Eighteen.

Nate

She isn’t laughing with me. Her baby blues are wide. Her body was almost frozen in time. Catching the scent of her blood, I frown.

“What’s wrong?”

“Something is in my back. I can’t move Nate.” She whispers

Carefully lifting her up, I spot the blade that lives in my desk drawer. It sits deep in her lower back, right next to her spine.

“What is it?” She whispers.

“A blade.”

“Silver?” Her panic grows.

“No. I’m going to roll you onto your front and remove it.”

“Okay.” she barely makes a sound as I turn her over onto her stomach. Her blood leaves small tracks over her skin. She whimpers as I wrap my hand around the hilt.

“Try to hold still.” It was probably going to hurt more coming out than going in.

She lets out a cry as I tug it out. Her nails dig into me, piercing my skin.

Grabbing my discarded shirt. I pressed it against the wound, hoping that she would heal quickly, just like how her ribs healed.

A few minutes pass and she sits up groaning. Looking at the broken desk, she sighs