I gulp more water, feeling it fill my empty stomach. Then, as if struck by a baseball bat in the head, I remember Oliver.
I look to the side of the road. And I see a small crowd gathered around something on the ground.
I run over, not even thinking about the fact that there’s still blood on my face. And I see Oliver, paper white, clutching at his neck, blood gushing out. Someone removes their overshirt and presses it against Oliver’s neck.
“An ambulance is already on the way,” she says, then looks at me with a shocked expression. “Are you…did you—”
“We were attacked.” I lean down and grab Oliver’s hand. He seems to sense it’s mine and turns to look at me.
“Silas…”
“Shh…don’t speak. You’ll be okay.”
“He…he made…” Oliver’s eyes close.
I squeeze his hand, and the tears come again. “Oh
