Page 68 of Styx & Stones

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

STYX

Jesus Christ.

“Stones, baby, stop. Stop!” I scream at her convulsing body as if what I’m saying makes perfect sense. As if she were seizing by choice. Puke covers her face and mouth, and her eyes roll back in her head. “Fuck. Fuck!”

I turn her on her side, attempting to hold her down with one arm so she doesn’t hurt herself, and I fish my phone off the nightstand and dial 911.

“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”

“My girlfriend. She’s seizing. She has a brain tumor.” I shake my head. My heart thunders against my ribcage, and fear grips my gut like a vise. “Diffuse Astrocytoma. She has Diffuse Astrocytoma.”

“Okay, and where is she now?”

“On the bed.”

“Are her airways clear?”

“I don’t know. She vomited.”

“Can you turn her on her side for me?”

“She’s already on her side.” I put the phone on speaker and throw it on the bed.

“Good man. Now don’t hold her; she should stop soon. I know it’s frightening, but she’ll be okay. Paramedics are on their way. You just stay on the phone with me until they get there.”

“Yeah, okay.” My teeth chatter. Shock, most likely.

Alaska gradually stops the worst of her shaking. Her eyes are wide, her pupils dilated and unfocused, and her mouth is a little blue in the corners.

“Baby, baby wake up.” I gently slap Stones’ cheek, trying to bring her back to me.

“Styx, the paramedics are almost there. Can you open the door for them?”

“But ... she’s naked.” I glance down at her body. Her hair is slick with vomit and sweat, and I smooth it back from her head. “I’m naked. She’s underage.”

“These men are professionals. They’re just here to do a job. Do you have a blanket you can cover her with?”