A Chicago story
Photo by Amadej Tauses on Unsplash
Shiloh pulled herself up from the concrete, vision clouding. With tears or blood? she wondered. She wiped her eyes with trembling fingers then examined them. Blood, she concluded with a cringe, but where from? With the palm of her hand, she felt around her forehead, wincing as she pulled at the cut above her left eye. Great, she huffed, glaring in the direction her assailant fled, that’ll scar.
Many sharp pains sent shockwaves through her chest and stomach as she stood up straight. She cried out and fell against the damp brick wall beside her, struggling to keep her footing. Panting, she squeezed her eyes shut and felt for the sources of her pain – the slash marks from her attacker’s knife. She pulled up her shirt and examined them as best as she could in the dark, counting two total. That’s not too bad, she thought, I hope.
She ran her tongue across the cut on her lip. I need to get out of here, she thought and spat the all-too familiar copper taste from her mouth. Thunder rolled softly above her head and rain started to fall once more. With one arm around her stomach, she pushed off only to trip over trash and fall against the opposite wall. Her head smacked against the brick, sending stars across her vision, and she swore once more. Struggling to catch her breath, head pounding, she lifted her face to the rain as it poured faster.
You have to get out of here, Shiloh, she thought, but her knees buckled. With her back dragging down the brick, she sank to the ground with a pained shout. Get back up.
“I can’t,” she moaned aloud, her voice sore and hoarse. Painful coughs wracked her body, sending more sparks across her eyes. She held her bleeding stomach and pulled her knees into her aching chest until the fit subsided. I can’t. She squeezed her eyes shut, faced the rain once more, and cried out in frustration.
“Shiloh?” a voice echoed. “Is that you?”
She peeled her eyes open, sighing with relief at the sight of a familiar shadow rushing towards her. But not just any shadow:
Her Shadow.
“What are you doing out here?” Diesel asked, almost shouting over the rain. She hid her face as he kneeled beside her. “Don’t you recognize a thunderstorm when you see one?” But, as her adrenaline waned and the pain began to take over, she couldn’t bring herself to reply. She could only focus on her breathing, on staying awake. Although, she knew she would soon fail at both. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, gripping her shoulder and peeling her away from her knees.
Lightning flashed, illuminating her face long enough for him to see the trail of blood. Thunder crashed, and his face grew dark. Pinching her chin with his thumb and forefinger, he turned her face toward him. He wiped away the blood oozing from her lip with a gentle thumb. Her heart skipped a beat as he said her name under his breath. She gulped, still struggling to catch her breath. After a brief pause, he looked her dead in the eyes and asked, “Who did this to you?”
She shook her head, growing dizzy, and lifted her bloody hands away from her stomach. “I dunno…” she breathed, her eyelids and limbs growing heavy. He swore and swatted her hands away, searching for the source of the blood. He lifted her shirt and seethed at the gashes on her stomach. “You should see ‘im, though,” she slurred as he felt along her body for other injuries. “N-not much bett—ah!” she cried out as he pressed against her ribs.
“We gotta get you outta here. Put your arms around me,” he ordered, lifting her arms by the wrists and pulling them up to his neck. She gasped in pain, darkness creeping in at the corners of her eyes. “Now, it’s too narrow for me to carry you, you gotta walk ‘til we get to the street. Can you do that?” he asked, but she squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “Hey, mira, mírame—” he put his hands on either side of her face and leaned in close. Her stomach dropped as his nose brushed against hers and he whispered, “—I’ve got you. And I’m not gonna let you fall, okay?”
Chills rushed down her spine. She nodded weakly.
“Es mi novia, you gonna work with me?”
Shiloh scoffed, the tang of copper coating her throat. She gulped it down. “N-not if you c-call me that,” she groaned, earning a chuckle from her savior. She wrapped her arms around him as he pulled her up just enough so she could get her feet underneath her.
“You got it?” he asked, and she nodded. “I’ll pull you up on three. One—”
Diesel pulled her to her feet, eliciting a pained cry as he half-dragged her towards the alley opening. His rushed apology fell on deaf ears as gravity threatened to pull her back to the ground. One foot… she stepped forward, in front… again, of the other… and again.
Her knees buckled as they stepped onto the sidewalk. “Easy,” he said, gripping her tight around the waist and scooping her up into his arms, “I’ve gotcha.” She let herself go limp in his strong arms as he rushed down the slick sidewalk towards his Jeep. “Stay with me, Princess.”
But Shiloh let her head fall back and she faced the rain one more time before she fell unconscious. She could stop fighting it now. She was safe in his arms - she always would be.
With a heavy exhale, she passed out.
PART TWO COMING SOON.
In the meantime, check out how Shiloh and Diesel met in:
Or, if you'd rather read about them getting a little too cozy, read the four-part series:
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