Blood. So much blood. It soaked the playground sand, matted the little boy's golden hair, and dripped from the swing's metal chain. The crowd of onlookers remained paralyzed, watching in horrified silence as the teenager prepared to strike again.
I didn't think. I just moved.
"Stop!" My scream tore through the air as I sprinted toward the playground, my heart hammering against my ribs. The young man paused, startled by my intervention, the metal swing still clutched in his hands.
I dropped to my knees beside the fallen child, whose face was deathly pale beneath the crimson streaks. His little chest barely rose with each shallow breath. Gingerly, I turned his head to assess the damage, revealing a deep gash across his temple where the swing had connected.
"Get away from him," the teenager snarled, taking a threatening step toward me.
I ignored him, pressing my hand firmly against the boy's wound to stanch the bleeding. "Someone help me! He needs a healer immediately!"
