Òyì nke e mepụtara

“I’m here…” Jessie looked at her side. Blood. Too much of it. His chest tightened, but he forced himself to focus. “Okay… okay,” he muttered, pulling off his shirt. “It’s gonna be fine. I’ve got this.” “You don’t know that,” she whispered, managing a weak smile. He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Jessie pressed the fabric firmly against the wound. Sarah gasped. “I know, I know,” he said quickly. “Just—hold on.” No supplies. No medicine. Just what they could find.