His After The Heartbreak (BL)-Chapter 168: Maybe I’m Dreaming

Maybe I was just dreaming. Maybe if I closed my eyes and opened them again, everything would disappear.

I squeezed my eyes shut tight.

Tight enough to block out the world.

And then, after a few seconds, I opened them again.

But the blood was still there.

The pain was still real.

The nightmare was still happening.

Fear gripped my heart so tight I felt like I was choking.

So it wasn't a dream.

I had been shot.

Tears burned my eyes as I cried out, my hands pressing down on my bleeding stomach.

The blood kept pouring out like water from a broken tap.

I was losing so much blood.

Way too much blood.

Panic took over my body.

I started to shake uncontrollably, gasping for air, my chest rising and falling fast.

I felt dizzy. Weak. Cold.

My hands felt like they weren't even mine anymore.

It was like those scenes you see in movies—the ones where people get shot and start slipping away slowly.

I was living it now.

And it was terrifying.

I heard Declan's voice, rough and desperate, trying to pull me back.

"Take a deep breath, Beatrice! You're going to be okay. Please! Deep breath! Nothing's going to happen to you! You're not going to die!" he shouted while firing bullets back at whoever was chasing us.

But his words felt far away, like they were floating in water.

I couldn't even move anymore.

I just sat there, staring at everything—and at the same time, staring at nothing.

Everything felt blurry and slow.

The world spun around me like a broken carousel.

I looked down at myself again.

At the spot where the bullet had entered.

There was a hole in my shirt, small.

The bullet hadn't gone through and out—it was still lodged inside me.

I bent my head lower, trying to get a closer look.

The sight made me gag.

But strangely, I wasn't feeling much pain—only a heavy pressure in my stomach and the terrifying sense that my body was slipping away from me.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, I did something I never thought I could ever do.

I forced my trembling hand inside the wound, trying to locate the bullet.

Where did I even get the courage from?

Me, who was so scared of blood that I couldn't even watch a cutscene on TV without freaking out.

But here I was, sticking my hand inside my own body, trying to grab a bullet.

Maybe it was the shock.

Maybe it was the fear.

Maybe it was the desperate need to survive.

"Better I remove it myself," I whispered to myself through gritted teeth.

But just as I was about to yank it out, I heard Declan's voice again, shouting from the driver's seat while still firing shots.

"Do NOT try to remove the bullet! You'll make it worse! You'll bleed out faster!"

I froze for a second, my fingers still deep inside me.

"Ooooh fuck," I muttered under my breath, feeling the bullet between my fingers.

"Too late, Declan! My hand is already inside! And I'm pulling it out!"

I could hear the frustration and panic in his voice as he cursed loudly.

"Why would you do something so stupid, Beatrice?! Are you dumb?! Don't you care about your life?!"

His voice cracked in a way that scared me more than the blood.

"Pulling it out will only make it worse! It'll open the wound bigger! You'll bleed out before we even find a safe place!"

He was trying to steer the car and shoot back at the same time, his face a mask of fear and fury.

His so-called guards—those same men who had sworn loyalty to him—were now the ones trying to kill all of us.

Without any trace.

Without any mercy.

Betrayal never looked so cruel.

And here I was, sitting in a pool of my own blood, fighting for my life, and fighting with Declan at the same time.

"Like I said earlier, my hand is already inside my body trying to remove the bullet, so it's too late for you to lecture me," I snapped at him, my voice sharp and shaking.

"If you don't mind, just let me concentrate so I don't hurt myself."

The moment the words left my mouth, a sudden sharp pain tore through my stomach.

The first real pain I had felt since getting shot.

It was like a knife twisting inside of me.

I bit down a scream, humming low in my throat, trying hard to tighten my muscles to make the pain stop.

After a few seconds, it finally did.

But the fear stayed.

"Beatrice," Declan growled at me, his voice desperate and angry all at once, "I already told you—do NOT do that! Don't try to remove the bullet or you're going to regret it!"

He fired another shot out the window, and I could hear the tension in his voice.

"A word is enough for the wise," he continued. "And you look like a wise person. So please, listen to me. Don't pull it out until we're somewhere safe. Let me handle it, Beatrice."

I rolled my eyes even though he couldn't see me.

"Okay then. If you insist," I muttered bitterly.

Slowly, with shaky hands, I pulled my fingers out of my wound.

Blood coated them.

Warm and sticky.

It made my stomach turn.

"Thank you for listening," Declan said quickly, relief clear in his voice.

"Now, if you don't mind, press your hand firmly on your stomach. Add pressure to the wound so you can slow down the bleeding."

I nodded, though he couldn't see it.

I pressed both of my palms against my bleeding stomach and closed my eyes tightly.

Trying not to cry.

Trying not to think.

Trying not to die.

"Do people who get shot not feel pain?" I whispered to myself.

It was weird.

The movies always showed people screaming in pain, rolling on the ground.

But here I was.

Bleeding like hell.

And yet, apart from the sharp flash earlier, I wasn't feeling much pain.

Why?

Maybe my body was already shutting down.

Maybe the shock was stronger than the pain.

I didn't want to think about it anymore.

I just wanted this nightmare to end.

"Brace yourself, Beatrice," Declan warned me. "I'm about to drive into a dark alley. It'll be hard for them to see us there. Hold yourself steady so you don't hurt yourself worse."

I nodded again and used my free hand to brace against the seat.

Seconds later, the car swerved sharply.

I gasped but held myself steady, biting my lip so hard I tasted blood.

When I looked back through the shattered rear window, my heart skipped a beat.

We weren't being followed anymore.

The street behind us was empty.

Dead silent.

"Phew," Declan breathed out, his shoulders relaxing a little as he kept driving fast down the narrow road.

"Hold on, Beatrice," he said again.

"We're close. Just a little longer. I'll get you to safety and help you remove the bullet properly."

"How many seconds?" I croaked out, my voice weak.

"It'll take just 10 to 20 minutes," he answered quickly. "Please, Beatrice, just hold on. Keep pressing on the wound so the bleeding slows down."

I tried.

God knows I tried.

But every second felt like an hour.

The blood kept soaking through my fingers.

The dizziness got worse.

R𝑒ad latest chapt𝒆rs at freewebnovёl.ƈom Only.

The spinning in my head wouldn't stop.

I was slipping away.

I couldn't wait any longer.

"I'm sorry..." I whispered, tears burning my eyes.

"But I can't wait anymore."