It was hard to estimate how long he'd been trapped. Adrenaline warped your sense of time, she knew that, and it was always possible that the weight of the car was holding a more serious wound closed. If she moved it, would it do more harm than good? She didn't know how long it would take for anyone to get there, though, and that was a concern. She wished she knew more about medicine - it was largely irrelevant to her. No reason to know how bad it might be that he was struggling to speak. Maybe his lungs were compressed, or something.
Fuck. At least if he started bleeding more she could probably stop it, temporarily at least. She couldn't keep him breathing if he didn't have room for his chest to move. Lifting a hand, a red glow surrounded the car for a moment before it rose up and was tossed aside, her attention gone from it as soon as it was out of the way and she was free to drop to her knees beside him to try to determine where he was most hurt. There wasn't any blood shooting out anywhere, at least. "Can you breathe okay?"