The Bold

I open my eyes to the dark, cold and welcoming. I can see the faint outline of bars, and more faint outlines of what I think are bodies, spread throughout the small, damp room I'm stuck in. It feels hard to breathe, the air seems stale. It's cold, laying on the concrete floor, and I'm lying on my arm, which feels like it's dead. I could try and get to my feet, but with only two limbs responding as they should, I don't think it's worth it. My head hurts like a bitch, and I can barely move. I think one or two of the bodies are moving- it's hard to tell, it's so dark. So cold, so dark. I can't see anything, and I start to shiver against the rough cobbles from the chilly air. I sit there for a second, just staring into the blackness and trying to make out what else is in this room. It's all grey and fuzzy, and I can't get around so well. I cough a little, and then rasp out a sentence.

"Hello? Anyone here?"

I can kind of hear an answer- I'm not quite sure what it was, but somebody said something in response. From the way they sound, it sounds like they're having trouble breathing, which is really not good. I'm not a healer, I can't help people get better. I only break people.

I start to drag myself over, sliding across the stone. I'm almost there, can hear the gurgling sounds of someone drowning on their own blood.

I can't see anything in the pitch black, just vague outlines of shadow, shifting as I, and they, move. Something scratches, right next to my arm on the stone beneath me. It scares me, and I involuntarily jump a little, jolting my wounds, and it makes me whine with pain. Someone- or maybe something- else reacts to the noise, making a small squeak, seemingly out of fear. I'm not quite sure what that noise is, but I know that I don't like it. I shuffle a little farther along the ground, a stray jagged piece of rock grazing my leg, not even drawing blood. But it does snap me out of my reverie, reminding me of the scenario I'm unwillingly engaged with.

I can feel the body next to me, warm to the touch when I reach out to them.

They make the same squeak of fear, maybe pain from before, but this time I recognise the voice.

My heart sinks, hoping with every inch of my battered body that I was wrong, that I was mistaken.

"Hey, are you okay?" I say calmly to the person lying next to me, grievously injured.

"It hurts" They whimper, confirming my suspicions. I don't even want to think about it- but this is Ranger. I know his voice a little, from him talking to his dad Claw; when I went to their house to negotiate. Enough to discern this is him.

"Where does it hurt, Ranger? I'm going to help you, I promise" I tell him. I already know, however- if his lungs are pierced, there's nothing I can do. I'm not a doctor- even if I had the right equipment, I couldn't help him. And in this dark, damp room, I can't do anything.

"My tummy" He says back, sounding wobbly. Brave kid- he's trying not to let me know how bad it hurts. But this is a four year old, there isn't much he can do.

"I'm gonna touch it, okay? It's probably going to hurt, I'm really sorry."

His arm tenses, as if preparing, but he doesn't answer.

I probe the wound as gently as I can, but it still provokes more screams from the child, and rightly so. I can't feel any outward wounds, but it feels like at least two ribs are broken and far out of place. I think that's what's causing the bleeding. I don't know what I can do, and tears of rage and frustration prick my eyes. I can try to perform CPR, but it will just drive the broken bone in further, causing more damage. I swear at myself internally, screaming at my inability to do anything.

"I want my papa and dada and baba" Ranger says all in a rush, the dam of his self-control breaking after their battle against the oceans of pain he must be feeling.

"I'll go and get your dads, okay? I'll be right back. You stay right here, okay?" I say to Ranger. "You're gonna be fine, I promise."

I shuffle off as fast as I can manage, moving around the room. The nearest body is cold, and doesn't stir when I push against it. This person, whoever they might have been, has been dead long before I got here. I can't do anything for them other than whisper a prayer over their body. I'm not religious and never have been, but maybe they were, and it'll give them some comfort in whatever comes next. The next person is alive, thankfully, but won't move when I shove on them and seems out cold. I slowly make my way around the room, but everybody seems to be dead or unconscious, other than one lone rat I find in the corner.

At the bars, holding onto them loosely in my good hand, and scream out into the dark. At first, it's just an unintelligible stream of curse words and guttural cries, but once my senses return to me I scream for help, yelling until my throat feels raw.

But all the screams are for nothing. No footsteps respond to my shrieking. Not a sound, other than my own cries echoing back at me and Ranger's gurgling breaths, mixed with some weak yells of his own.

I lurch awkwardly back to Ranger, telling him sadly that I couldn't find his dad's, but that I'm sure he will be fine, and that everything will be okay soon. I wish that what I was saying was true, but his breathing gets more and more laboured and ragged, and quieter and quieter, until I have to strain my ears to hear it, until I can't anymore.

I have to try and perform CPR- it may hurt him more, but hurt is preferable to death. With my one good arm, I shove his chest, trying abruptly to restart his breathing, then two breaths in. Push, push, push… I repeat the pattern, endlessly trying to wake him back up, bring him back to life. I don't know how long I was doing it. I keep going until my one arm is too weak to keep going. Once my arm collapses, I fall onto my face, skull cracking against the stone, and I drag myself back up to a sitting position. I grab Ranger, pulling him up into my lap, whispering an endless stream of apologies to the tiny corpse. So small, so fragile, and he's dead. I can't help but cry, tears falling onto his face. I wipe my face with my hand, then gently wipe the tears off his face, looking down. Through the darkness, I can barely see, but I make out the slight outline of the cartoon dinosaur on his shirt- matching with his twin. His twin, who will never see him again.

There's nothing else I can say. Only cry, and whisper broken apologies to the lifeless body of a child I couldn't save.