Page 11 of Split You Open

Again, I nod as I focus on her wound.

“That seems…” Her words trail off as she considers something. “You don’t think that’s out of character for him? Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad he saved you, but Ledger isn’t known for going out of his way for people he doesn’t know.” She pauses again. “Hm… were you and him a thing? Like you and Santi⁠—”

“No, absolutely not.” I scoff at the very idea. Frowning, I think about what else she’s said. “You know, though, you’re right. Now that I think about it, that does seem weird for him.”

Blair sucks in a deep breath and then slowly lets it out.

“And this was about four years ago?” She asks. At my nod, she mutters, “Where did all of this take place?”

“Ah, just outside of Colorado Springs.”

Blair looks away from me as her brows furrow. “Strange… I was in that area too at that time.”

We’re both quiet for a moment as I work. Once the skin around the bullet hole is clean, I use the antiseptic to disinfect it.

“So, yeah, I’ve done this before. You’re in good hands,” I promise, and attempt to give her a smile.

It must be weak because Blair doesn’t smile back. She stares at me, her expression soft but unreadable.

“Alright, I’m going in. Remember to breathe, okay?” I tell her as I pick up the tweezers.

Blair nods and takes a deep breath. I clear my throat as my stomach rolls in protest. Reaching forward, I dip the tweezers into the bloody hole in Blair’s arm. For all the killing that I’ve done, it doesn’t prepare me to handle this. Every life I’ve taken, I made sure it hurt. But with Blair, I wish more than anything I could do something to take away the pain.

Between her soft gasp and the sweat breaking out on her skin, I know I’m putting her through agony. Blair doesn’t say a word, though. She doesn’t cry out or try to pull away. She simply allows me to work.

I hate every minute of this.

Blair had brought me comfort in my time of need.

All I’m doing is bringing her pain.

By the time I’ve dug out the bullet, Blair looks like she’s on the verge of passing out. Her body sways as I chuck the bullet into the sink.

“Alright, I have to stitch you up,” I warn her. “You okay?”

“Just peachy.”

“If it makes you feel better, this should be pretty quick. I gave Abby stitches a few times.”

“Your parents let you stitch up your sister?” She asks incredulously as she leans back against the tank.

“Oh god, no.” I cringe. “They would’ve killed me if they learned that I put Abby in a situation where she hurt herself. But jumping pool fences and falling off scooters tends to lend to a few deep cuts. I had to learn fast how to tend to any of her injuries. She was a champ.”

I chuckle as I think about the few times Abby let me do this to her. The amusement dies as wonder takes its place. Why am I not feeling that wretched, soul aching guilt like I do whenever I think about my sister?

I look up into Blair’s face.

She’s watching me too, wary, as if wondering the same thing.

Without a shadow of a doubt, I know this is her doing.

I’m not sure if it’s because I told Blair about Abby as she held me in her arms, or because she gave me a sense of closure with the small memorial service, but that guilt isn’t pressing down on me as strongly as before.

I stare into Blair’s brown eyes, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to repay her. My heart expands so much that I feel it pressing intensely up against my ribs. Thick, warm, gooey, and unfamiliar emotions start to creep up my throat. When they bottleneck there, I worry I’m going to start to choke.

I can’t talk.

I can hardly breathe.