I was stumbling a little by the time I reached the boys. It was the top of my forearm that had been torn, so I knew I hadn't hit the artery. I wasn't bleeding to death or anything.

I just think people underestimate how much blood loss can screw you up. And it doesn't have to be pints of the stuff. I'm not talking fountains, or traumatic gushing.

We're just not really made to bleed. It's an unfortunate side effect of being made of flesh. Sustained blood loss, even when it's not reaching fatal amounts, still has sucky side effects.

Mortality's a bitch right?

A shout startled me, making me look up from where I'd been concentrating on walking.

Yeah, I know, not the smartest idea. But at that point, I was just trying to stay on my feet. I stopped when I saw Shane and Kyle running toward me, feeling lightheaded.

No surprise, Kyle reached me first and he gripped my upper arms, shaking me slightly. "Raleigh! What the fuck were you thinking? You could have been bitten! Eaten! Fucking found by some crazy ass psycho who'd want to keep you as a pet!"

I was maybe a little goofy from blood loss, and found what he said funny even though he was completely serious. I giggled and asked, "What kind of pet?"

Kyle's eyes widened in fury and his fingers bit into my arms, making me wince a little. Getting more into my face, his voice low and strained, he said, "Why did you do that, Raleigh? Why did you do something so un-fucking-believably stupid as that?"

I blinked hard, feeling more and more woozy. "It was my fault," I managed to say.

Kyle let go of me in surprise, and suddenly it was Shane in my face.

"Are you okay?" he asked, voice cold enough to make me shiver.

See, Shane has two modes of mad. He's either beat you into a bloody pulp pissed, or he's shut everything down, ice cold angry.

The second one is the worst of the two in my opinion. Of course... I've never had the first one aimed at me.

I nodded, and his mouth thinned into an angry slash. "Just what the fuck was that, Raleigh?"

I shrugged a little helplessly. "It... it was my fault. I drew them. Me. I got Kyle trapped there, and I could hear them getting through the window."

Shane's face got more and more still as I spoke, his eyes becoming more distant with each word.

I expected yelling. I expected him to get up in my face and maybe shake me like Kyle had.

But he didn't. He didn't touch me.

He just looked at me and said, "You. You're grounded. You don't leave my sight. You understand?"

I laughed, irritation lighting up somewhere in the back of my mind. "And I thought you were the guy I was sleeping with, not my father."

"It only takes the one questionable decision, Raleigh. It takes one bullet. One wrong move. Then that's it. It's over," Shane said tonelessly, unaffected by my jab. "That little stunt hit your quota for stupid as fuck decisions. You don't get anymore."

I opened my mouth to snap back, but then he turned to Kyle. "Take her to the truck. Use that stuff you found to patch her up." Shane pointed at my arm where blood had been dripping from my fingers steadily for a while now.

"What are you going to do?" I asked, feeling shaky after he had more or less handed me off to his brother.

"I'm going to take a look around. Look at the map, decide where we're going next." He wasn't talking to me.

Kyle bit at his lip, watching his brother walk toward the edge of the road. "Come on, Raleigh," he said softly, taking my hand. The one that wasn't all bloody.

I was silent, letting Kyle take me back to the truck. He had me sit on the tail gate and started to unwrap the sheet.

"Christ, Rals," he whispered when he saw it. Looking up at me he asked, "What did this?"

I looked down, surprised by the ragged, bloody gash in my arm. I didn't remember it being so bad. I shrugged and answered, "Chain link fence."

Kyle wiped the blood away gently, making me flinch. Now that I was still, it was starting to burn and ache.

He scratched at his cheek and said, "This looks pretty bad, Raleigh."

I just shrugged again. I was still a little in shock from Shane.

I wasn't used to that kind of reaction. Nobody in my family had ever let what they were thinking remain a mystery, so I couldn't decipher what his reaction meant. He should have been screaming at me.

I hadn't realized Kyle had left until it startled me when he returned. I watched him riffle through a bag, then smile. He held up a suture packet, and my mouth dropped open. 

"I made Shane take the time to go through a couple more houses when you—" Kyle cut himself off and looked down. Shaking his head, he said, "Anyway, I found these. Guess it's your lucky day, huh?"

"Is it that bad?" I asked distantly, looking down at my arm again.

Kyle tore the small package open with his teeth. "You've got a flap of skin hanging away."

"Great," I muttered, looking into the trees on the other side of the road, trying to find Shane.

I hissed when something cold that stung like crazy was poured over my arm. Kyle said, "Sorry. It's just saline."

"Where the heck did you get this stuff?" I asked. I thought it was weird that Kyle had been able to find sutures.

Kyle just shrugged. "Random house. I don't know why they had stitches, but the saline's just an eye drop solution. I remember reading once that you're supposed to wash out wounds with either straight water or saline."

I laughed a little. "Yeah. I wouldn't have thought to use eye drops."

Kyle held up the small, curved needle and said, "Ready?"

"No anesthetic?" I asked half-heartedly.

He shook his head, and I squeezed my eyes shut. "Awesome," I breathed out. "Yeah. Okay. Just do it."

I'd barely gotten that out when Kyle jabbed the needle in. I rested my forehead on his shoulder, eyes shut tightly, breathing slowly, in through my nose, out through my mouth.

Kyle made a sympathetic noise, and I tried to keep from throwing up as I felt the silk pull through my skin. Not a pleasant sensation. By any stretch of the imagination.

I pressed my face harder into his shoulder, my other hand gripping his shirt at the hip, my arm on fire.

I don't really recommend stitches ever, but especially not when you don't even have a local.

By the time he finished, I couldn't stop the pitiful little whimpers that slipped from between clenched teeth every time I was stabbed with the needle.

Kyle sighed in relief, and he rubbed my back. "All good?" he asked softly.

I took a few more breaths, then nodded, sitting back. It wasn't pretty. I looked up and Kyle said, "I skipped home ec."

A laugh was startled from me and he smiled, handing me a bottle of water. I took a sip and looked down again.

Watching my hand carefully, I wiggled all my fingers, then made a loose fist. I sighed. It hurt like crazy, but it didn't look like I'd done any permanent damage.

I did come away from that experience with a nasty scar, though.

But you don't complain about scars. Not in this life. A scar is just evidence that you managed to walk away still breathing.

Kyle smeared some antibiotic onto it and scratched at his cheek again, eyebrows drawing together. I was about to ask what was up when I could see a light bulb go off.

He stepped up into the bed of the truck, and dug through one of the bags before extracting a dark blue t-shirt and a pair of scissors. I bit my lip when I realized they were the same pair Shane had used to cut my hair, and looked back toward the trees again. 

Shane still wasn't back.

Kyle climbed back down, and started cutting the shirt into strips. Catching my eye, he shrugged and said, "Better this than nothin' right?"

"Is that one of Shane's?" I asked.

Kyle shook his head. "I don't think so."

I nodded and watched him wrap me up, dexterous fingers deftly tying secure knots up my arm.

"He was just scared," Kyle said softly, not looking up. "He'll get over it. He just gets pissed when he gets scared and if he gets scared for someone he loves, he bottles it."

I sucked in a startled breath, eyes going wide, choking on a sip of water. Kyle patted my back in concern. Every time I coughed, pain radiated up my arm.

Eyes streaming, I looked up and shook my head. "Little quick for love isn't it?"

Kyle shrugged then handed me three ibuprofen tablets. I took them and he said, "Maybe. But, speaking as someone who knows Shane better than anyone else ever has, I've never seen him look at other girls the way he watches you."

With a frown, he crossed his arms and leaned against the truck. "And, I mean, he's had the opportunity, you know?"

I grimaced. Not exactly the kind of conversation I wanted to have right now.

He looked down the road. "Either way, he cares about you. Otherwise, he would have just started yelling at you. The whole time you were gone..." Kyle paused, eyes flicking over to me. "He just... he wasn't focused. When we were waiting here he was pacing back and forth, checking his watch. Shane is never impatient like that. Never. He was freaking out." There was another long pause and then Kyle muttered, "I was freaking out."

I glanced at him in surprise, and his shoulders tightened as he blushed a little.

Quickly going back to Shane, he said, "Shane, when he's mad, he either fights or he shuts down. And the second one is only when he's mad at someone he cares about. He doesn't want to take the chance of saying something he can't take back. So... do me a favor?" Kyle turned to rest his arms on the side of the truck, chin resting on his arms, looking at me seriously.

I nodded, feeling a little unsteady. I couldn't tell if it was from the blood loss, or from what Kyle was saying.

He said, "Do as he asks? I think he just needs to be able to keep tabs on you right now."

I looked down. "I get that," I said softly, "but when does he let go of the leash?"

Kyle opened his mouth to defend his brother, but I kept talking. "I know Shane likes to be in control. And he's good at being in charge but..." I stopped, sighing. "I can't be with him twenty-four-seven. You know that. Sometimes we're going to get separated. He's going to have to learn to be okay with that."

Kyle chewed on his lip. I could tell that he was warring with the fact that he agreed with me and with the part of him that always wanted to keep his brother from getting hurt.

Quietly, looking around like he was checking for Shane, Kyle said, "Would you feel the same if it had been Shane who took off like you did?"

"Of course not," I sighed. "But that's because this is all irrational. I'm gonna get mad when he's in danger and he's gonna be mad when I'm in danger. The stupid thing here is that we're always in danger."

Actually, the really stupid thing here is that we still get mad, even now. We still get scared. It's gotten better in some ways, worse in others.

Easier in the sense that we're a little more confident in what the other can handle.

Harder because, now, I can't imagine life without Shane. If he died...

Let's just go with it wouldn't be pretty, and God forbid it be a living person who takes him from me. They would see the light of the next day, if only because I've staked them out to let the zombies eat them.

Just something for some of your people to consider.

Kyle sighed and nodded.

I stood up then, and Kyle noticed the blood on my side. Pulling my shirt up, I almost laughed in relief when I looked at the scratch and it wasn't bad enough for stitches.

Kyle cleaned and wrapped it, then we sat in silence, waiting for Shane to cool off and come back.