My ears are ringing. He opens his eyes with a gasp. Everything is still dark around him, I can't see. There's a sharp pain on the right side of his torso as he starts breathing, panicked, taking in gulps of air. The ringing in his ears softens slightly, and He can make out shapes around himself. Hes lying on the ground. Above him is a dark ceiling. To his left is what remains of the broken table. He can see vague shapes of other furniture that have been knocked over or broken. There is a big window on the wall with light curtains fluttering softly from a small breeze. It's dark outside, too.
He grunts as he pushes himself up slightly with his right arm. The pain in my torso intensifies, and I almost feel like puking. Hes still groggy and he struggling to make sense of where he is, or what has happened. I don't think I can move particularly far. The pain in his torso flares up every time he inhales, or exhales, so he trys to calm himself down and take small, steady breaths.
Hes eyes are suddenly drawn down onto his left arm, which is hanging in an odd shape. He stares down at his forearm, which is covered in blood, with a sharp, white bone sticking out. The sight of it is too much, and hes stomach contracts and he spits out what he assumes is stomach acid. Shit. Focus, He try telling himself. His arm is still leaking out a steady trickle of blood, but hes in too much of a state of shock to feel anything. He knows he can't do anything about the bone, but he has to apply some pressure to stop the bleeding. He looks frantically around for anything that could serve him but only sees broken wood and glass shards.
As hes looking around, he sees two bodies by the open front door. It's slightly lighter outside than where he is, so he can see them quite clearly. One of them is huge compared to the other. He suddenly remembers. Hwang. He stays completely still, holding his breath, eyes fixed on her form. She doesn't move. He has to get to her before he can tend to his own injuries, he dossn't know if they ever get a better chance. He looks around, trying to locate anything he could restrain her up with, and his heart takes a little leap of relief when he sees the shackles the agent dropped before Hwang knocked him out -or worse; Hes reminded of the sickening crunch that was heard when the agent was slammed to the ceiling.
With a huge push of effort, he drags himself over to the shackles. His breathing is the only thing he can concentrate on as to not pass out from the effort. Thankfully, hes not too far away. He grabs the cool, black things that look like thicker handcuffs, place them on his lap and look over to where Hwang and the agent are lying. Five meters. I can do this. He half drag, half shuffles his way across the cabin floor. His vision flickers, but he keeps going. Hes reached their feet now. He steadys himself, not letting himself pass out before hes restrained her.
One more push, and I've dragged myself to her level. She's leaning against the wall next to the open door, but most of her body is on the floor. Her head is hanging limply, her face covered by her white hair. His stomach suddenly drops. He can instantly see the blood slowly, but steadily flowing out of her body where his knife hit her.
"Shit." I aimed for her shoulder, but missed quite significantly.
She's managed to drag herself back from where she was hit, standing by the doorframe to the wall next to the door. There's a significant pool of blood next to her. Chan Jeol quickly scoots closer, ignoring the screaming pain in his ribs. He uses his one good hand to push some of the hair covering her face away, accidentally smearing her cheek in his -or her, blood. It creates a stark contrast against her skin, which looks too pale to indicate anything good.
He press two fingers against her neck, trying to find a pulse. For a few horrifying moments, he struggles. He lets out a breath as he finally feel a slight pulse against his fingers. I don't know how long I blacked out after stabing her, but thankfully, she's still alive. His orders were never to kill, and hes managed to survive in the agents work for quite an impressive amount of time without having taken a life. Call it great aim. Ironic, he thinks as he looks down onto Hwang's right side. He can't tell exactly where the knife hit her; the entire right side of her abdomen is covered in dark blood. He knows he'l have to stop the bleeding or she won't have a chance.
He looks around, again trying to come up with anything he could use to tie around her. This time he's lucky, and spots a tablecloth amongst the splinters of the used-to-be table. He drags himself over to it, place it in his lap over the shackles, and pulls himself back. He fumbles to find what he hoped is still attached to the uder of his shoe. Still there, he notes with gratefulness as he pulls out the sharp mini knife he never really uses. He knows he won't be of any use to Hwang if he pases out again -which hes close to, so he uses the knife to tear off a smaller piece of the cloth and gingerly place it over his broken arm.
He takes three breaths, grabs one end of the fabric with his teeth and the other with his hand, makes a loose knot and then pulls. He bite down hard on the fabric as blinding white pain shoots up from his arm. He's teeth clamps down hard as he fights the urge to let himself blackout. She'll bleed out, he thinks over and over until he feels steady enough to double knot it. He look down at his arm. The mustard-yellow tablecloth is already turning red, but the fabric is thick and he's convinced it's as good as he can do for now.
He turns his attention back to Hwang. She's sunken slightly lower down against the wall, blood still staining her clothes more and more. He folds the tablecloth over a couple of times until there are enough rolls of fabric to make it thick enough, and he lay it down on the floor next to Hwang. He's hesitant to move her, but he wants to get her heart parallel to her feet so as to not strain it, so he wraps his good arm around her torso and pull her down on the floor over the tablecloth.
Her head makes a soft thump on the wood as he eases his arm out from underneath her.
"Sorry." He whispers. He's taken aback by how little effort the action took. He thought she'd be heavier. In fact, she's a lot smaller than he imagined. Now, lying on the floor of the dark cabin in the middle of nowhere, the shadow of the enormous mountain looming overhead, she's not that scary at all. Her reputation truly precedes her.
He takes a quick moment to steady himself before he gets back to it. Somehow, keeping his focus on Hwang seems to dull the pain hes feeling. He leans over her and carefully pull her knitted jumper up to expose the wound. The blood has colored her skin a coppery red, and the movement of placing her down on the ground seems to have angered the stabwound which he can now tell is just above her right hip. He grunts as he flips her over to her side, and he almost completely lying down on her as he desperately feels to see if the knife has exited. To his relief, he can tell it did.
But the knife is nowhere to be seen.
He lets her fall back on her back, takes a hold of the two ends of the tablecloth on either side of her and repeat his earlier action of tightening it around her waist, using his teeth and good hand. He tightens it as much as he can, and once hes pleased with the pressure it's applying to the wound, he lets himself fall down on the floor next to her.
His thoughts briefly flicker to the shackles that lie forgotten by his feet. He's hit like a freight train by exhaustion, finally feeling his broken arm and ribs again. He make one last movement, securing the shackles. He crawls closer to Hwang fighting the impending darkness in the corners of his vision. He grabs one cold hand, putting the anti-witchcraft bracelet on. It gives a soft little click. He repeat the action on her other arm. It clicks. He gives the floor his full weight again. He can hear the shackles working by the soft hum they emit. Pleased with his effort, he allows myself to rest. He closes his eyes, just for a short moment.