I awoke to a hot, stretching pain I discovered was Simon's fingers digging into the rawness of one of several bullet wounds on my side. My body jerked forward, nearly brushing him as an agonized moan pulled from me. Simon's other hand came to my shoulder, squeezing remedy into me.
Sweat dripped from my chin and sank into the tears in my clothing. The smell of iron and sweat and the outside was pungent on our bodies.
"I know, I know it hurts," he soothed, but his voice shook with torment. "But it won't be good if I can't get this out of you. You passed out from the pain nearly an hour ago. This is the last one."
