I lay dying on my bed.

Not literally. It seemed like I was, though, with my hands folded over my middle and my blank gaze staring up at the ceiling, body unmoving. A living corpse.

Routine, routine, routine. It was approaching 2 a.m. already, and I couldn't sleep. No big surprise there.

I was sick to the bone with worry for Emer. I had a sinking feeling something bad had happened to him, and couldn't shake it.

I pressed the heels of my palms into my closed eyes, a long groan creaking out of me. I couldn't stand the worry gnawing at me any longer.

Flinging myself out of bed, I hurriedly pulled on some clothes which I found strewn haphazardly around the room, then remembered to stuff my phone into my pocket and pratically threw myself out the door.

Hesitating before I pulled open the front door, I hurried about the house, hunting around for a scrap of paper and a pen, then wrote a short note explaining that I'd gone out for a walk - not technically a lie. I was flying out of the house soon after, the paper still fluttering onto the coffee table.

I brought up street view on Google Maps, trying to think back to the landmarks or signs I'd caught sight of as I'd made my way back yesterday, trying to retrace my steps.

As I meandered through the neighbourhood, heading back to where I last recalled myself in a familiar place, I tugged up the sleeves of the sweatshirt I'd put on. When I was back at the first street, I paused, then consulted my phone.

"Come on, come on, come on. Find it" I muttered darkly under my breath. Tapping incessantly on my phone screen didn't help matters. Sadly.

Frustrated, I gave up on trying to understand the map, thrusting my phone back into my pocket, then decided to just head straight until I reached a corner. I'd take every single one, and perhaps I would get myself so lost I'd find Emer's shop.

Good plan.

After several long minutes of walking, hands clenching and unclenching, my worry manifesting itself, I found it.

The road I'd been in the middle of when the gunshots sounded.

Excitement boosted my spirits. Perhaps this wasn't so hopeless after all!

I stood myself in the middle of the road, trying to reenact the events of last night.

1. Heard gunshots.
2. Fell to my knees.
3. Heard a voice.
4. Ran away.
5. Got chased.
6. Fell down.
7. More running.

I took off in the direction I'd ran.

Thick metal pole, where are you?

One foot in front of the other. I hadn't run very far. It must be near -

There! The metal pole I'd bruised my elbow on!

My excitement soon faded when I realized I had no idea where Emer had dragged me off to after I'd fallen. I was too busy just trying to keep up with him, to keep my footing, that I hadn't really noticed.

I let out a ripe curse. It was loud, cutting into the silence of the night, and I instantly clapped my hands over my mouth, afraid that whoever-they-were would hear.

I was getting desperate after long moments of standing frozen to the spot, trying to figure out where to go, and the desperation turned to frustration turned to me slamming - read: lightly tapping - my head against the pole.

The knock must have jolted what little brain cells I had, for that was when an idea struck me, one of my, as usual, brilliant ones.

I whipped out my phone once again, bringing up the trusty ole Google Maps. The abandoned shop - there had been a sign hanging in the door - Sorry, we are closed - and above it... why, it was the name of the shop!

I couldn't recall it exactly, but I typed in several different variations of what I remembered, until finally - there! Found it!

I nearly let out a whoop of joy; instead, I compromised by heaving a sigh of relief.

Be safe, Emerson.

My strides lengthened considerably as I walked, my pace quickening, until I was going at a full-out sprint. Finally, blessedly, the shop came into view. It should have occurred to me sooner that maybe the door was locked, but it thankfully wasn't.

And that should have been my first warning.

In my haze of giddy excitement, I was just happy when the door opened without a hitch.

The light wasn't on, so I gingerly closed the door, which threw me into near-pitch darkness; there was still light from outside streaming in through the transparent door.

Feeling my way around mostly to make sure I didn't collide with any objects, I headed straight for the room in the back, calling out, "Um, hello?"

No response.

My heart slammed itself against my chest as I wrapped my hand around the doorknob. "Emer?" I called again.

More silence.

Pushing out a deep breath, I twisted the knob and swung the door open.

My heart stopped.

It was dark, but my eyes had already adjusted to the dim, and at first, they thought they must have been hallucinating, for how could that be Emer lying there, broken, on the mattress?

It took me what felt like a lifetime to regain control of my body, throwing on the light and moving my feet in stumbling, lunging steps towards Emer, half-blind from the sudden burst of light.

"Emerson," was pulling itself out of my throat before I'd even realized it was my own voice I was hearing.

I fell to my knees beside him, and now, illuminated by light, I could see the exact severity of Emer's condition.

Dried blood caked his face, even sticking his hair to his forehead. His mouth was parted, lip split. One eye had swelled to twice the size of the other, a dark mess of colours splotching it.

He had one arm draped over the width of his body. His wrist hung at an unnatural angle.

Sweeping my eyes down his curled-up, shivering body, I gasped as I took in the sight of his sprained ankle, the bruises and cuts lining his legs.

"Oh my God." A breathless whisper. "Emer. Wake up. Please." Was he dead? Please, please, don't let him be dead.

I didn't dare touch him, for fear of hurting him further, and feeling helpless, I drew my clasped hands to my chest. "Emer, it's Em. Come on, wake up." Was I screaming it? All I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears.

For what seemed to span an eternity, there was no response. Not a sound, not even a twitch of a finger. His body just continued shaking, his skin pallid.

"Don't be dead, damn you!" I was yelling now, moisture clinging to the sides of my eyes. Threatening to well up.

Dead. It wasn't a word I would particularly like to associate with Emer. He had saved my life. He couldn't have traded his life for mine. For a complete stranger he didn't even know the last name of.

I heard it.

A moan.

"Em," he mumbled, eyelashes fluttering.

My heart sped up, relieved that he was at least alive. "Yeah, it's me. I'm here. I'm so sorry."

His eyes blinked open, squinting against the harsh light. Or at least one eye was squinting. The other was too swollen to even open. "Em?" A note of wonder in his voice.

"Hey," I whispered, barely managing to squeeze that one word out of my constricted throat. His face was swimming.

His eye slipped shut with a groan. "Aw, hell, Em, don't cry. This is nothing."

Nothing? I stared at him incredulously. Since when was getting so beat up you couldn't even move considered nothing?

His soft exhalation hit me with the force of a lightning bolt. There was so much pain carefully buried under it. He must have heard what I didn't say. "Thank God you're here."

"It hurts, doesn't it?" I swiped angrily at the tears that dared to fall from my eyes.

"S'nothing," he murmured again, but his words were starting to slur. He was falling back to sleep. "Stay here with me. Please." His hand moved slowly, groping around until it found mine and squeezed it. But the squeeze barely had any strength behind it.

My parents would kill me for not returning home.

I squeezed back, and didn't let go. "I'll stay."

[A/N: I'm sorry if this chapter is particularly sucky.]