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Nick didn’t know how long he had until it became impossible to bring her back to life. He didn’t know a lot of things.
But he did know one thing– he couldn’t lose her.
He couldn't lose Ziggy.
“Breathe!” Nick commanded, ignoring the horrific crack of Ziggy’s rib as it snapped under the weight of the pressure he was applying to her chest, “Come on, breath, Ziggy,” he instructed as he continued with the seemingly futile chest compressions.
Crack
Crack
"Breathe!" Nick ordered.
Crack–
"Huh!"
Nick’s eyes flew to Ziggy’s pale face, ignoring the splattering of blood that he knew didn’t belong to only Ziggy, “Ziggy?” He asked, relief surging through his body as he watched her try to capture another lungful of air.
But she couldn’t.
Because her lungs were like two fatally punctured tires, deflated and unable to be used again.
“Breathe,” Nick encouraged like that would make everything better.
But it didn’t.
Nick commanded Ziggy to breathe. And she did.
But she didn’t use the last of her strength to breathe in oxygen– only her blood.