[ WP ] A young boy tries to help his sister , who has had an accident . He does n't know first aid , and nobody is around to help .

The wheels still spun; they sounded screechy, like nails on a blackboard. 
 
 The upside-down car belched smoke from its hood. There was glass everywhere; he already took a couple small shards in his shins, from kneeling on the forest floor. The six-year-old's platinum blond hair was a mess and he sported a massive bruise under his left eye. He'd felt something weird in his mouth when the accident happened; he spat two of his teeth out as the car rolled on them, and now his mouth was constantly filling with blood. It tasted awful, and by now he'd swallowed so much of it that he was getting sick. 
 
 But none of that really mattered, now. The boy's sky blue eyes did n't show any hint of pain, or even disgust at that coppery metal taste on his tongue. 
 
 In fact, the kid's eyes were a thousand miles away. 
 
 He held his big sister's limp arm, his little hands trembling, and he watched as blood oozed out from all those cuts in her skin. She was asleep. She had been, ever since the wreck.'Knocked-out'. That's what they called it in the movies. That's right: when a person wo n't wake up, they called it being'knocked-out'.'' 
 
 `` Knocked... out...'' he repeated, lips trembling. 
 
 He did n't know what to do. He could n't even *think* straight, now. The gears in his little brain were burning hotter than anything in that smoldering car; all his young thoughts were little more than blurs hidden in a fog. He even forgot to breathe, and when he did he nearly choked on the blood pooling in his mouth. He gagged, retching, and when he was done his little face took on a determined scowl: 
 
 It was gon na be alright. He was gon na save sis. They were both going home. 
 
 `` Y- yeah,'' he nodded, voice warbling. `` *Yeah*!'' 
 
 He ripped up his already tattered tee-shirt into strips and wrapped them around her cuts. He struggled to move her, gently getting her into a more comfortable position, so she would n't get a sore muscle, or anything, and then he tended to some other cuts on her neck. 
 
 That reminded him: there was a nasty-looking cut on her forehead, too, was n't there? He'd have to bandage that up, right? Yeah. It was important, was n't it? 
 
 `` Yeah...'' he repeated. He nodded his head rhythmically in a constant and robotic fashion. 
 
 He tore another strip off his tee-shirt and got to his feet. He walked around to the other side of the car, his wide and empty eyes surveying the forest floor. 
 
 He remembered seeing it *somewhere* around there... 
 

