“Carson!” I screamed. My voice came out so high pitched and erratic, that even the sound surprised me. I climbed over the remaining door frame and out onto the porch. Moving shards of glass and long splintered pieces of wood that lay over him, I knelt down. His chest moved silently. He was alive. Resting his head in my lap I held his face.
“Carson, can you hear me?” I whispered softly. The idea of him being hurt, of me hurting him was nauseating. He had to be alright. His eyes shot open, and he attempted to sit up.
“Ahh” he groaned out in pain looking down at his chest. There was a long-colored piece of glass protruding through his shirt.
“Oh my god.” I shouted looking down at the blood pooling under him.
“I’m alright.” He winced wrapping his hand around the shard.