Dylan smashes his lips together for a quick smile. “Hi again.”
Alistair waves awkwardly, and Milo just coyly smiles at her. Meanwhile, Penelope and Lana stand in the corner with their arms folded, while Felix and Nathan just don’t give a fuck and simply shrug.
“Are you going to help us or not?” Kai grits.
“Well, what’s going on?” The nurse steps in and places her phone down on the table. “I got another warning that someone was in my office, but I didn’t think you guys had the balls to come in again after last time. Who got shot up now?”
Nathan points at the bloodied bodies on the beds.
“Please,” I mutter as I grab Ares’s hand. “We need your help.”
Crystal’s hovering over his face, checking his temperature. “He’s heating up.”
Blaine coughs and groans. “Don’t worry about me, darlings. I feel fine.”
“He’s been shot,” Crystal says before she unwraps the shirt around his wounds to show her. “Please, you have to help us.”
The nurse’s eyes widen, and she swiftly grabs her toolkit from her cabinet, puts on gloves, and sits on a stool near Blaine. “Move, girl.”
She shoves Crystal aside and rubs some alcohol into his skin. “This is going to hurt.”
“Fuck,” Blaine growls when she shoots him up with drugs.
“You people are getting on my nerve,” the nurse says. “This is the third time now you’re just dumping bodies in my office.”
“We’re still alive,” Blaine replies, grinding his teeth through the pain as she digs into his wounds.
“Stay still, boy,” she says. “I need to stop the bleed and suture it.”
She injects something into him and goes to work on the wound left from the knife, but the blood keeps pouring out of his chest every time he takes in a breath.
“There, I’ve sutured this one. But you’re going to need to go to the hospital for this,” she says, pointing at the bullet hole.
“Oh God,” Milo mutters, chewing his nails. “Is he going to be okay?”
“That all depends on how fast you can get there,” she says.
“What about Ares?” Crystal asks.
The nurse rolls her little stool to his side and says, “Where?”
Kai and Nathan help roll him over, and she gags when she sees the lashes on his back and all the blood seeping into the bed.
“Oh God indeed …” she says.
“That doesn’t sound good,” Alistair mutters from the corner.
“Hand me my phone, boy,” she yells at Dylan, who throws it at her.
It’s impressive she manages to catch it at her age. She swiftly pulls off her gloves and dials a number. “Rivera, it’s Daisy Lewis.”
“Daisy?” Dylan makes a face and grins, but a simple, stern look from Nurse Daisy shuts him up.
“I need you to call in a code at the clinic. Students brought in two injured, one with a bullet wound and a stab wound that I sutured up quickly, one in the peritoneum, one in the pectoralis major muscle. Another patient with major lashes and ruptured skin, possibly through the dermis and subcutaneous. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, got it.”
She hangs up the phone and turns to us. “Ambulance is on the way.”
“What? No,” Felix grits, stepping in. “We all agreed, no hospitals. If we go there, they’ll fucking report us to the police, and then we’re done for.”