My blood ran cold as I pulled my hand away from George’s back and found my hand covered in warm, wet, and sticky blood. I felt a wave of dizziness come over me and I felt the bottom drop out of my stomach. “Its nothing,” George said, almost casually, “It’s just a flesh wound.”
I knew in my heart he was making light of it just to try and comfort me. I quickly twisted myself around his back and covered my mouth to stifle the cry that bubbled up. “You’ve been shot!”
I remembered the beginning of the skirmish, when the gun had been leveled at me, and I had expected the explosion of pain that never came. I realized that George had intercepted the bullet with his body. Now he had a hole in his lower back that was bleeding profusely. He was hurt because of me. The very thing I had f
