Bleed for Me Read Online Free PDF

owing her to breathe through a rubber hose. The man was caught and locked away, but how does a twelve-year-old recover from something like that? How does she set foot outside her house, or look a stranger in the eyes, or trust anyone again?
    I have never forgotten the sense of panic that tore through my soft organs like a spinning blade when I knew Charlie was missing, when I searched and couldn’t find her.
    A scurrying sound to my left. Footsteps on dead leaves. I swing the torch back and forth. Soft crying. I listen for the sound again. Nothing.
    My left arm is trembling. Swapping hands, I move the beam of light slowly along the banks, trying to find the source of the sound, wishing it into being, solid and visible. It came from somewhere on the far bank, in the trees.
    Scrambling down the side of the bridge, I slide into the water. Sinking. Mud and sediment suck at my shoes. I reach down and almost overbalance, catching the torch before it topples into the river.
    Wading to the far bank, I discover brambles growing to the water’s edge. Thorns catch on my clothes and skin. Head first. Crawling forward. I can’t hear crying any more.
    Game birds flushed from the undergrowth explode into the clearing making my heart pound against the wal s of my chest. Unhooking the last of the vines from my clothes, I stand and listen.
    The weak moonlight is deceptive. The trees become people. Branches become limbs. An army marching through the darkness.
    I can’t find her - not in the dark. I should be fitter. I should be sober. I should have better eyesight. I should take my time or I’l walk straight past her.
    The torch swings in another arc and picks up a flash of white before continuing.
    Go back!
    Where?
    There she is! Huddled between the roots of a tree like a discarded dol . Stil in her black dress. Water lapping at her bare legs. She’s on the far bank. I chose the wrong side. I’m in the river now, fal ing rather than jumping, wading towards her, my scrotum retracting in the cold.
    ‘It’s only me, Sienna,’ I whisper. ‘It’s OK, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be fine.’
    My fingers frozen and numb, I feel for a pulse on her neck. Her eyes are open. Flat. Cold.
    I put her arm over my shoulder and slide one hand beneath her thighs and another behind her back.
    ‘I’m just going to pick you up now.’
    She doesn’t respond. Doesn’t resist. She weighs nothing, but I’m unsteady. Carrying her back along the bank, I walk blindly because I can’t point the torch properly. Al the while, I’m talking to Sienna, whispering between heavy breaths, tel ing her not to worry.
    My ankle snags on a root, sending me sideways. At the last moment I take the impact on my shoulder, protecting Sienna’s head.
    A sudden surge of panic rips the calmness. She hasn’t said a word. Hasn’t moved. She might be dead. She might never be able to tel me who did this to her.
    The bridge. The arch. I have to free my arm and use a sapling to pul both of us up the bank to the edge of the road. Sienna hangs limply from my other arm, a dead weight, being pul ed across the ground.
    ‘Stay with me, sweetheart. We’re almost there.’
    One last effort, I drag her to the edge of the bridge and lever myself over the wal , holding her body to stop her tumbling back down the slope. There are torches dancing between the trees, coming towards us. Blue flashing lights decorate the sky above them.
    I put Sienna down gently, cradling her head against my chest. Breathing hard.
    ‘I told you we’d make it.’
    She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t blink. Her skin is cold, but I can feel a pulse beneath my fingers.
    ‘There they are!’ someone yel s.
    A powerful light il uminates every detail of the scene. I hold up my hand to shield my eyes.
    ‘She needs a doctor.’
    I glance down at Sienna and notice the blood. I thought it was mud on her thighs and hands, but she’s bleeding. Her eyes are open, staring blindly past me.
    A paramedic crouches