Joyce (2/4)

Continuation of part 1.

    Bang
    That sound, that gun going off, exploded into my ears and resonated in my gut. I had never heard a gun go off from so close. I had been told that hearing a gunshot from so close could make a person go deaf, but I couldn't imagine it could possibly be quite this loud. The deer, unhurt, bounded away. Kent wasn't angry about missing the deer. He was confused. He didn't get a chance to pull the trigger – not all the way at least. His gun had never gone off. Whose gun, then, had fired?
    It was then that Kent looked over at me. I laid on the ground, clutching my stomach with both hands. Blood poured from the wound beneath my hands and effortlessly soaked through my shirt. Within seconds, a large puddle of blood formed on the ground around me, sinking into the pine needles on the forest bed. I was in such agonizing pain that I could barely breathe, let alone scream. I had broken bones before. I had gotten teeth pulled by a dentist who seriously underestimated the amount of anesthesia I'd need. I had felt pain before that I thought was unbearable and more than I could stand. But nothing I had felt before could come close to the terrible pain I felt at that moment.
    I had shot myself. I had been careless when cleaning out the gun. I didn't know how I did it, but I had managed to accidentally set it off when I had it pointed toward myself. The gun had gone off just seconds before Kent's would have.
    Kent knelt over me and started to cry. His face showed a strange mix of deep sadness and disbelief. For the longest time, he couldn't talk. Finally, he let out a weak sound that barely was a word.
    "No."
    Kent's voice came out slowly, sporadically. He never was much of a crier. When he was sad, he would take small, quick breaths and make little sounds and squeaks, but tears would never come. This happened now.
    "No, Joyce." Kent paused to take in three short breaths. "How'd it – I mean... You're shot?"
    I exhaled slowly and spoke. "I was cleaning it. It, it... It went off. I -"
    "It's okay Joyce. I'm sure you'll be fine." Kent's voice didn't sound very sure.
    "No." I said. "I'm losing too much blood." I could feel the blood falling out of me.
    "You don't know that. You're going to be okay."
    "I know. You know how I am. You know the gift I have." I did have a gift. An ability. I could do something that no other human could. Kent had found out about my ability a few months earlier. "It's part of my gift, knowing about my body. Knowing what I can and can't take. I have lost too much blood. I won't make it."
    "You have to make it. I, I can go run for help."
    "It's miles just back to your car." I winced from the pain. "I won't make it that long."
    "I can carry you back." Kent looked desperate.
    "Kent, it's no good."
    "Then I'll –"
    "No, Kent." I spoke sternly, though I was very weak from the pain. "You can't do anything. I wish you could but... there just isn't anything you can do. I'm not going to make it."
    Tears finally rolled down Kent's cheeks. He put one hand on my cheek and gently brushed my hair with the other. Despite the blood pouring from my abdomen, my face and hair had not yet become wet with blood. Kent would have to say goodbye now.
    "You were fine just a moment ago. How could this happen?"
    "It's okay." I spoke softly. I was the one who was moments from death, yet he was the one who couldn't accept the situation. Maybe he cared for me more deeply than I had thought.
    "It's not!" he yelled, obviously angry at the sudden, unfair incident. You can't die because of a stupid accident!"
    "There's nothing you can do."
    "There has to be." Kent looked resolute and determined.
    "There isn't."
    "No." he said, his eyes showing his terrible realization. "I know what it is. There is something I can do."

Continued in part 3.