Evan, not quite to the rescue

Evan let out a yell as pain shot through his arm, making worse his already tender shoulder. He curled up, clutching his aching limb, feeling warm blood oozing out of the wound. Another pained noise came from somewhere inside of him, pushing its way through gritted teeth.
Raising his head to inspect the gunshot, Evan couldn’t stop his jaw dropping wide open; there was too much blood.
He’d never been shot, but he’d seen it happen and the pool of blood spreading steadily around him couldn’t possibly be flowing so freely from his arm.
He heard a groan to his left and noticed Sarah, still doubled up, her face buried in her lap. It was her blood that was staining the floor.
Forgetting his own pain, Evan reached out a sticky hand to stroke Sarah’s hair. It was all he could think to do to ease her discomfort, hoping in his confusion that the gentle motion might diffuse the pain in some way.
“It’s OK, it’s OK,” he soothed.
“I need my surgery,” came Sarah’s reply, the agony evident in her trembling voice, “I just want my damn surgery!”
“You haven’t been shot…”
“Not yet," she growled.
Evan glanced frantically around the waiting room.
“Help!” He yelled the first word that came to mind. “She’s bleeding! She needs surgery, now!”

The End

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