Kyle Summers (notonyourteam) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2012-01-17 21:17:00 |
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Entry tags: | #solo, 2009-08-29, kyle |
You cut me open and I...
Who: Kyle
Where: Somewhere along The Preternaturals for Peace march route, before the bridge.
When 11.37am+
Warnings: The inner workings of a teenager's mind. And swearing.
He could've been at home right now. He could've been at home, lying on his bed, watching a blond guy named Chris from Ohio choking his eight inch bishop live on cam, but some well-meaning pro-supernatural asshole had to go and stick a Preternaturals for Peace march slap-bang in the middle of his Saturday morning, didn't they?
It wouldn't have been so bad if August wasn't the type to lap up this were-pride shit, but he was. And that meant that he was going to the march, and although nobody was ever really made to join in, pack participation was encouraged.
When his sisters left early on that morning, Kyle remained in his bed. He had told them that he'd be following on later, but he'd never really said how much later. If he really had to go to some stupid yay-we're-all-freaks parade, then he wasn't going before midday.
Or at least that had been his intention.
August had called, and like any lazy teenager he'd pretended that he was already up and in the process of getting dressed. His brother had swallowed this lie quite easily, but it did mean that instead of shuffling to the shower, picking something to wear and sitting down to a hearty breakfast, he'd had to jump in and out of the shower, throw on something vaguely clean and stuff a couple of slices of toast into his mouth all in the space of around ten minutes.
And that was how he'd ended up at the march. Further back from his siblings, he'd mingled in with a few other people after texting August to let him know he was there. Kyle had only been at the march for around thirty five minutes when the first explosions happened.
Was it fair to blame his brother for all of this?
Lying on his back in the middle of the road, Kyle tried to retrieve his phone from his back pocket again. The screen was probably cracked beyond repair, but the muffled beep suggested that it was still receiving messages. Someone would be checking in on him, waiting for a reply.
Two shards of glass, about twelve inches tall and around half an inch thick, were sticking out of his right thigh, and whenever Kyle attempted to move his leg in the slightest they all but sang. Incidentally, the pocket were he kept his phone was also on his right, and therein lay his problem; how did he get his phone from his pocket without moving his leg?
Kyle could shout for help instead, but when every other wounded person was also shouting for help, it made it a little difficult to stand out from the crowd; the phone was his only option.
Trent had once told him that if you severed a major artery, you only had three or four minutes before you bled out and died. There was a major artery in your leg, wasn't there? No, in your thigh. Kyle was sure that the glass had either missed it or was stopping it from bleeding, since he was alive and still conscious and not completely caked in blood, but if he moved it, who knew?
His mom would be so pissed if he ended up dead on this stupid march.
Sliding his hand under his back, Kyle tried to wedge his fingers into his pocket to retreive his phone. It didn't seem that difficult, but then if it wasn't that difficult why had he failed on the last two attempts? If it didn't require so much flat space it would make a great carnival game.
He moved his leg slightly by accident, gritting his teeth as the glass bit into him. Kyle tried again, pressing his fingertips as close to his pocket as he could. Eventually he felt the soft rubber of the protective case and tried to winch it out with his nails. Pulling at his phone this way and that until it was out from under him, Kyle picked it up with his non-bloody hand and tapped out a quick message before hitting send.
Kyle was never protesting ever again. Watching porn was so much safer.