by Ella Fields
The air in the room turned over, brushing thick along my skin.
He was so pale, his lips almost blue, and when I touched his skin, it was clammy and cool. “Shit,” I breathed. “Toby,” I called out, shaking his shoulders.
He wouldn’t wake up. My eyes ran over his arms, jean covered legs, landing on his fingers. Two of his fingers twitched.
I screamed louder than I’d ever screamed before. “Quinn!”
Oh, God.
Oh, my fucking God.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs, the door hitting the wall as Quinn flung it open. “He’s …” I swallowed. “He’s taken something.”
Quinn cursed repetitively, his own face paling. He froze for all of a second, then he was rounding the bed, yelling for Daisy to call an ambulance as he turned Toby onto his side.
I watched in horror as Quinn shifted him to face me, then felt his pulse. “It’s faint, but I feel it.” He looked up at me. “Stay here with me, Pippa. Can you call his dad?”
Jerking my head once, I fumbled for my phone in my pocket.
“They’re on their way,” Daisy said from the bedroom door.
My phone slipped out of my sweaty hand and dropped to the carpet. As I frantically tried to pick it up, a blue bottle came into view, sitting beside the bed on the floor.
His medication.
“No,” I whispered, even though it was obvious, as I picked it up and shook it, this was what he’d taken. “He took these.” I handed them to Quinn, who kept his hand on Toby’s neck, taking the bottle from me with the other.
“Fuck.”
“There’s still some in there,” I said, hoping that was a good sign.
Quinn just looked at me. “Pippa, it held thirty, and I’m guessing he hadn’t taken any of them until now.” My lips and hands trembled as sirens started screaming in the distance. “Call his dad, Daisy. His phone’s there.”
“I-I …” I looked at my phone, realizing I didn’t have his number, and shoved my hand through my hair, pulling roughly at the strands.
Wake up.
Wake up, wake up, wake up.
Daisy grabbed Toby’s phone from the nightstand, walking outside the room.
Everything happened in a blur. The EMTs came up the stairs, taking the medication from Quinn, then turning Toby, prying open his eyes and tearing open his clothes, telling me to stand back.
Quinn took my hand, pulling me out of the room. “No,” I said. “I can’t leave him.”
“We’re in the way,” Quinn said. “He needs them right now, not us.”
I watched with bile sitting heavy in my throat as they carried him downstairs, slammed the doors of the ambulance, and drove away.
“Let’s go,” Quinn said, turning the lock on the door and waving his arm for us to get out.
We climbed into his truck, Daisy sitting in the middle and holding my hand in her shaking one until we reached the small university hospital on the other side of campus.
Liam showed up forty-five minutes later, looking ten years older than the last time I saw him as he ran into the emergency waiting room.
“Hey,” he said, coming to a stop when he saw us. “Where is he?”
“They’re still working on him,” Quinn said.
Liam nodded, looking so frightened that I trembled even more. He marched over to the desk, talking with a nurse for a few minutes.
I tucked my hands under my legs as Quinn gave Toby’s dad a quick recount of what had happened once he returned.
Liam cursed, looking like he was about to cry or punch someone square in the face, then his eyes fell on me, and I flinched, waiting for the blame. It didn’t arrive, though.
He bent down in front of me, grabbing my hand and squeezing it. “You look like you’re about to faint,” he said.
A dry laugh spewed out of me. “I’m sorry,” I said, sniffling as the tears came. “I had no idea he’d …”
“Shhh,” he said, hugging me. “It’s no one’s fault. Where’s your phone?”
He leaned back, and I gave it to him, watching as he punched his number in. “So I can let you know how he’s doing because it’s getting late. You guys can’t hang around here all night.”
“I’m not leaving,” I said quietly but firmly.
“Neither are we,” Quinn said, Daisy nodding in agreement.
Liam nodded, his eyes growing wet.
The doors to the waiting room opened, and Callum, Burrows, and Paul walked in, silently taking a seat on the other side of the room.
“It’s all over campus?” Quinn asked.
Callum shook his head. “Nah, I was driving by when I saw you pull in here. Then when you didn’t answer your phone, I sent Daisy a text.”
Quinn bristled beside me but didn’t say anything. It wasn’t the time, and it really didn’t matter.
“He’s his friend, and he knew something was wrong,” Daisy defended.
“You don’t need to explain anything,” I told her. “Don’t worry about it.”
The doors to the emergency room swung open. “Mr. Hawthorne?”
Liam almost ran over to the doctor, nodding and following him inside the ER.
My limbs turned numb, and I swear, if I couldn’t feel the rough plastic of the chair beneath my hands, I’d almost think I was floating.
Why did he do this?
Because of me?
Because it all became too much?
Did he seriously try to kill himself?
My body hummed with terror, my mind searching for answers, reaching for them, only to see them flying away, far out of reach.
The only thing I knew with a certainty that sunk deep claws into my psyche was that I couldn’t walk away. He had his demons, but I’d be there, fighting them alongside him. Together, we’d find him among the darkness and bring him back.
The minutes ticked onward, and no one talked. It was as though we were all standing on a tightrope, hoping it didn’t shake, that the wind didn’t blow, and we’d be able to make it across to the other side in one piece.
Babies and young children cried or squealed, but the tick of the clock hanging on the wall drowned out all the other sounds.
After what felt like an eternity, Liam returned, talking about things like came to, ventilation, being moved to the ICU, monitoring his liver and kidneys.
“Jesus,” Quinn said hoarsely, dropping his head into his hands. Daisy rubbed his back.
“Will he be okay?” Callum asked, walking over to sit beside me.
Liam looked pained, as if something was squeezing his heart, when he said, “The next twenty-four hours are critical. They’ll know more by then.”
Liam looked around, and so did I, but no one moved.
“I’ll go buy some real coffee,” Burrows said, and Paul offered to go with.
Callum took my hand in his, giving it a squeeze as Liam sat down beside him.
“Pippa,” someone said, shaking my shoulder.
I woke with a gasp, my neck stiff and drool sitting below my bottom lip. I wiped it, looking around and blinking. The sun shone through the glass windows and doors, the waiting room almost empty except for the seven of us.
Giving Callum a sheepish smile, I checked his shirt for drool. Stretching my neck, I glanced over at Liam, who was now sitting next to a sleeping Paul. Liam’s eyes were red rimmed but alert. His lips curved into a small smile as I tried to get my bearings. “Any update?”
“He’s stable. Vitals look good; we’ll hopefully know more later this morning.”
I nodded, needing to pee. I didn’t remember falling asleep, but I remembered drinking two coffees in a desperate attempt to stay awake.
That failed, and now my bladder was about to burst. I looked around, seeing the sign for the restrooms and unfolding my stiff limbs from the chair.
My hair was a mess, and I unsnapped an elastic from my wrist to toss it into a messy ponytail. Then I splashed some water on my face and rinsed out my mouth.
Daisy was handing out
brown bags to everyone when I returned. “Muffins and donuts,” she said.
“God, I love you,” I said, snatching a bag and tearing off a huge chunk of the chocolate chip muffin as I sat down.
A morning talk show played low on a flat screen TV overhead. We ate, we sat, and we continued to wait. And looking around the waiting room at all the tired yet determined faces, I wanted to fall into a ball on the ground and weep.
He was so loved.
And he had no idea.
Lunchtime crawled into afternoon, and the afternoon carried news.
“He’s being transferred out of ICU now,” Liam said. “I’m going to go up and see him.”
Everyone sat forward, watching him go with hesitant smiles on our faces.
Liam saw him briefly in the ICU this morning, but he wasn’t awake, and it was immediate family only.
“Here,” Daisy said, dumping my backpack at my feet. “Your toiletries, books, pencil, eraser, sharpener, and a clean shirt and panties.”
Burrows waggled his brows at hearing the word panties, and I shook my head with a smirk. I’d have flipped him off, but that was before. Everything fell on one side during those hours. Before or after finding Toby.
I waited, feeling like my lungs would burst from holding my breath as each minute rolled by, but when Liam returned, he wouldn’t meet my eyes.
I stood. “Did something else happen?”
“No,” he said, clearing his throat. “He’s awake.”
“Okay.” I nodded repetitively. “Can I see him?”
The doors opened and closed, someone kept coughing over by the nurse’s desk, and Liam suddenly looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “He doesn’t want visitors right now.”
My legs buckled, and I shook my head. “I don’t need to go in. I just need to see him.”
Liam exhaled, rubbing his hand over his brow, looking so much like his son that my heart rattled. “Pippa, he’s … I tried.”
“Tried?” I asked, not understanding.
His voice lowered. “He doesn’t want anyone”—he put emphasis on anyone—“to see him like this. I’m sorry.”
I stumbled back a step, everything around me losing color as Callum took my hand and led me back to my seat. The same seat I’d been waiting in for almost twenty-four hours.
I supposed I should’ve just been grateful he was okay. And I was. I’d never been more grateful of anything in my life, but it didn’t change the fact he didn’t want to see us, to see me. It bruised my already bruised heart. All I wanted was to lay eyes on him, to see for myself he was okay.
Liam crouched down in front of me, telling us how he was doing, that it was all looking positive. The strange buzzing in my ears clouded anything else that tried to penetrate, though.
“Let’s get you home,” Daisy said when Liam rose, saying he’d be back soon and walking outside.
“I can’t.” I looked around, noticing the guys were all stretching and heading for the doors. “I can’t just …” walk away and leave my heart lying in a hospital bed somewhere in the maze of rooms above us.
Daisy understood what I was trying to say and took my face in her hands. “He’s okay. That’s what’s important. Let it hurt, but remember, he probably feels pretty out of it and shaken up right now. He doesn’t want anyone to see him like this. For many reasons, I’m thinking. We’ll come back.”
“He’s got nothing to feel embarrassed about,” I rasped, blinking back tears. Then it clicked that he’d feel ashamed. Lost. “Okay,” I said. “Okay, let’s go then.”
Daisy smiled tentatively, grabbing my bag and tugging me outside into the bright sunshine.
“Liam?”
“Hi,” he said. “One second.”
I waited, knowing he was probably stepping outside to take my call.
“How is he?” I asked when he returned.
“He’s doing well. We should be able to have him discharged by tomorrow.”
“Good,” I said, trying to force words through the boulder in my throat. “That’s good.”
“Yeah, listen. He’s not staying in Gray Springs.”
I absorbed those words for a few breaths. “I guess I knew that.”
Silence reigned over the line for a long moment. “I didn’t know. I had no idea he’d gotten this bad. I thought he was getting it together. That he was taking the medication.”
“He doesn’t seem to be a big fan of medication,” I said.
“He never has been, but he’s young, and this has shaken him up. I can see it in his eyes.”
Envy at the fact he’d seen him, could see him, and I couldn’t, slithered through me. Scaly, insidious, and entirely unwelcome. This was his son, but I loved him too. I couldn’t just switch that off.
I was petrified of what the answer might be, but I had to know. “Do you think he meant to?”
Liam puffed out a breath. “All he’s said was that he wanted it to stop. He needed it to stop. He wanted silence.”
My eyes squeezed shut, the phone slipping. I righted it, swallowing down the tears. “Is it bad that makes some sense?”
“He’s told you about it then.” Liam cleared his throat a little. “Yeah, it does make sense. But it shouldn’t have to.”
“No, it shouldn’t. Do you think I can see him before you go?”
“I can keep trying, but it just seems to agitate him, and I—”
“No,” I cut in. “I get it. Don’t stress him out.”
We said goodbye, and the phone beeped three times in my ear before my fingers opened, letting it fall to the bed in front of me.
After sitting through two classes the next morning with swollen eyes, trying to ignore the whispers and questioning gazes, I left campus and went to the hospital just as I’d done for the past three days. I was intent on simply being there. Even if he didn’t want to see anyone, I thought it might help.
Except when I got there and called Liam, his voicemail greeted me.
Daisy dragged me home two hours later after finding out from Quinn that Toby had been discharged at midday.
Back in our dorm, Daisy laid behind me. Not saying anything, she just held me as I finally set everything free. The worry, the fear, the horror, and the sorrow.
The tears were screams that made no sound, but they had my body bucking as they finally clawed their way out from somewhere deep inside me.
I’d never cried like that before. Where it felt like you were being pulled apart, piece by broken piece.
It was agonizing.
The worst pain I’d ever experience in my life.
Everything here was cream and brown.
Brown on cream.
Cream in brown.
And creamy brown.
I found it kind of unsettling until one of the nurses told me that they liked to keep the colors neutral. Certain bright colors had an adverse effect on some patients.
Patients who roamed the rec room in chattering pairs, or played cards in groups, or wandered aimlessly by themselves, talking to the potted plants that sat in each corner.
How did I get here? I kept asking myself the same thing as I walked around, watching in bewilderment when one of the patients had a meltdown on the basketball court, shouting about the devil being here among us.
The past week seemed like it’d happened in some alternate universe.
“What time is it?” I asked the good doctor.
He glanced at his watch. “Two after three.”
“Great, we still have time for a round of Backgammon before supper.”
He grinned, crossing one leg over the other. “How’re you feeling today?”
I picked up one of the stress balls on the coffee table, tossing it into the air and letting it fall into my open palm without removing my eyes from Dr. Jenson. “About the same as yesterday.”
“Good reflexes.” He nodded at the ball when it smacked into my palm. “I’m guessing from the football?”
Something sour slithered into my stomach.
“I guess.”
“How long have you played?”
“I don’t,” I said. “Not anymore.”
“Why not?”
My lip curled. “Got kicked off the team. Fight.”
Dr. Jenson nodded again, writing something down in his trusty notebook.
“Do you miss it?”
“If you lost a limb, would you miss that?” I shot back.
“That depends. I’ve got a real ugly little toe I wouldn’t be sad to say goodbye to.”
I bit my tongue, trying not to laugh as I squinted at him. “Funny.”
He shrugged, clearly doodling a circle in his notebook. “Do you still play?”
“No. I’m here.”
Another nod. “Ah. And do you like it here?”
“Not really. I think Mary has it in for me.” Mary, a short, middle-aged woman, had taken it upon herself to shout obscenities at me when I least expected it.
A chuffing sound. “That’s what all my patients tell me.”
“Isn’t that confidential?”
“Probably.”
Quiet fell. He kept doodling something I couldn’t make out, but I knew he wasn’t writing. “How’s the medication making you feel?”
“I don’t feel anything yet. But I only started taking it two days ago.”
More quiet. This guy was kind of weird.
I stared around the office, taking note of his credentials on the walls and wondering if they were real. He was a joke, laugh lines surrounding his eyes, and rainbow-colored socks creeping into view below his pants.
On his desk sat a picture of him, a woman, and three kids. One of them was black, the other two white. “You adopt a child?”
“Sammy.” He smiled fondly at his drawing. “She likes cats.” He turned his notebook around to face me, showing me a child-like drawing of a cat.
He put the notebook down, clasping his hands together in front of him. “Your father seems like a good man.”
My jaw tightened, and I looked down at the floor. The memory of waking up, my head surrounded by beeping noises as I tried to clear the fog, and my eyes opening to find his worried ones on me.
He should’ve yelled at me, slapped me, called me a fucking idiot.
Yet he did none of those things. He simply said, “Boy, am I glad to see you,” before dropping his head to the bed to muffle his sobs in the hospital blanket.
