Don't Breathe

but she doubted that any of the intruders had been instructed to shoot.
‘I said, what about Tom? We can’t just leave him here to bleed to death.’
‘Look after him,’ Larry snapped, lowering his gun. ‘If you care about him that much, then you sort him out.’
Annie could see that she wasn’t getting through to him. This man didn’t care about Tom, he was collateral damage, if he died it would be inconvenient, but it was Harley’s fault – Harley’s guilt. She needed to do something.
Tom was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, both hands clutched to his left side. Annie knelt down next to him.
‘Hey,’ she said gently. ‘How’re you doing? Where are you hurt?’
‘I’m okay,’ Tom said, his voice shaky. ‘He stabbed me in the side. I don’t think it’s too bad. Stings a bit. It hurts to breathe; he might have caught one of my ribs.’
His face was grey, his breathing rapid and shallow. Annie desperately tried to remember her anatomy lessons. What was there on the left side of the body? Which major organs were at risk? Tom’s hands were too low down for Harley to have injured his heart or lungs but she couldn’t remember what else was there. His kidneys? His liver? Oh shit! She couldn’t remember. Where was his liver?
‘Annie.’ Tom had removed one of his hands from his wound and was gripping her forearm leaving bloody fingerprints on the sleeve of her top. ‘Don’t spin out on me. I don’t think it’s too bad but I’m bleeding quite a bit. I need to keep pressure on it.’
They’d both had first aid training last year as part of their PHSE programme. They’d bandaged each other’s limbs and breathed life into a plastic doll, but Annie couldn’t remember anything about the lessons.
‘I need something absorbent,’ Tom said. ‘Something I can press against the wound. You need to help me. Come on, Annie, think.’ He gave her arm a tight squeeze and suddenly her mind cleared. Compression. She needed some sort of pad to ease the flow of blood and absorb any that was still leaking out.
‘I need some help,’ she said, standing up and addressing the class. ‘I’ve got to put some pressure on this wound. Has anybody got a spare T-shirt, paper towels, anything I can use to slow the bleeding?’
The students looked at each other blankly and Anne could see that they were struggling with shock. The glazed eyes, flushed cheeks and lack of comprehension suggested that most of them were dangerously close to shutting down completely. They needed a task.
‘Girls. Check your bags. Sanitary towels would be perfect. And you, Miss,’ she said, including the teacher, forcing her to engage with her students.
Miss Frith shook her head and mouthed ‘tampons’ but the other girls were picking up their bags while the boys looked on in confusion and embarrassment.
‘PE kit,’ Annie said. ‘Tissues if that’s all you’ve got. Come on. Look.’
Larry raised his rifle again.
‘One at a time,’ he instructed. ‘Everybody else keep your hands where we can see them. You first.’ He pointed at Jess Moffatt.
Jess pulled her bag towards her and reached inside.
‘Try these,’ she said, handing Annie a half empty packet of sanitary towels.
She kept her eyes on the desk in front of her and Annie could feel the embarrassment radiating from her. None of the girls liked to talk about periods in front of their male classmates and, in any other circumstances, this would be mortifying. She grabbed the package gratefully. ‘Thanks, Jess.’
‘Right. That’s sorted. The rest of you. Bags off desks and stay in your seats.’
Annie knelt back down, fingers fumbling with the packaging of one of the sanitary towels. Finally freeing the pad, she stared at it, trying to work out what would work best.
‘Give it here!’ Tom said, snatching it away from her. Keeping one hand tightly pressed to his side, he slipped the sanitary towel underneath it, grimacing as he put pressure on the injury.
‘Let me see,’ Annie said, placing her hand over his.
Tom shook his head.
‘Tom, let me see!’
Tom took a deep breath and removed both hands and the sanitary towel, which was already soaked. Carefully, Annie lifted his T-shirt for a better view, allowing her to assess the extent of the injury.
The wound was less than an inch long, but it gaped like a tiny mouth, pulsing faintly as the blood, relieved from the pressure of Tom’s hands, flowed freely.
‘Tom, it’s–’
Tom put a bloody finger to his lips, silencing her. ‘It’ll be okay if I keep the pressure on it. They can’t keep us here forever. It’s not even bleeding that much.’
Annie unwrapped another sanitary towel and passed it to Tom, the glimmer of an idea forming in her frazzled mind.
‘Hey,’ she yelled at Larry. ‘You can’t keep him here. He’s bleeding way too much. I think the knife might have nicked his liver.’ She had no idea if this was even possible, but she wanted to sound convincing. ‘I do A-level biology. I know what I’m talking about. There’s a serious amount of blood.’
She hoped she was right about the men having no real desire to hurt them. She was half convinced that their situation was more about causing fear than actual harm. If she could play on that, they might have a chance of getting help.
‘It might be Harley who stabbed him but, if you don’t get help, you’ll be just as responsible if anything happens to him. All of you.’
Curly glanced at Larry and Annie saw him lick his lips nervously. She was right. Killing the students wasn’t part of the plan. Whatever they’d signed up for, it wasn’t this.
‘He could die!’
‘He’ll be fine. Look after him,’ Larry said, his eyes flicking to Curly and back to Tom.
‘She’s right,’ Miss Frith said. ‘If he dies, you’ll all be charged with manslaughter.’
Harley moaned as if he’d just realised the seriousness of his own situation.
‘Shut up!’ Larry raised his rifle and carved an arc in the air, pointing it