Snippet #2609815

As soon as Evanne was gone from his side, Noah was hit by a geometric truck. A square, or probably a triangle. He knew the feeling. He'd experienced it before. It came with the memory of blonde curls; high, bright peals of laughter at his expense; a dare; so many rings on long, pale fingers; and the best fireside make out session he'd ever had. The yelling in the room became singing and laughing in his mind, and his hands itched to take out the IV. Once he had accomplished that, all while Evanne and Dana were hugging and laughing and giving each other playful shoves, Noah stood from his bed--the comfiest, most luxurious he had ever felt--and knelt beside Evelynn's.

She was already awake and giggling very strangely. It almost sounded like crying to Noah, but that was impossible. What was there to cry about? Colors were so vivid, and everyone seemed to be having fun. He scooped up his daughter with his good arm and held her close to his body. She was the softest thing he'd ever felt, and he sat cross-cross applesauce on the floor--the beautiful, dusty, comfortable floor--to rock her back and forth. He didn't know how long he spent there, staring at Evelynn.

As Patrick and Luke came in to join the huddle--what was in Dana's hand? Some kind of device to allow her to hug more effectively?--everything suddenly went to shit. One moment everything was fine, the next Patrick and Evanne were on the floor, Evanne bleeding bright crimson.

Amongst the yelling, Noah spoke. "Luke," he said quietly, "try to stop the bleeding. Dana get Risalda."