Page 3
TWO
OVERDOSE
WHISKEY LULLABY: brAD PAISLEY
DOMINIC
A childlike glee bubbles inside me, a smile so wide my cheeks ache. Leaving the clinic, Five trailing behind, I feel a lightness I haven't known in fucking ages. My cast is off, and I can resume the chaos that caused it. The sky, however, is a brooding canvas of dark clouds, its anger growing with each rumble of distant thunder. A warm breeze, carrying the first drops of rain, sweeps over us as we walk to the car. I try calling Ash, but his phone goes unanswered. Cali, however, picks up immediately.
"Tell me you have good news," she breathes, her voice tight with anticipation.
"I do," I reply, snatching the keys from Five. "My fucking cast is off!"
"Yay!" She shrieks. I have to pull the phone away from my ear; her joy is almost fucking deafening.
"We're just leaving the clinic now. I tried Ash, but no luck. Have you spoken to him?" I ask, sliding into the driver's seat, my hand lingering on the steering wheel, a familiar gesture echoing the way I sometimes trace Cali's delicate skin.
"No, I tried earlier; nothing. Kill and I are heading home, so we'll see you soon. Call if you hear from Ash," she says, her voice laced with a worry that chills my own exhilaration.
My initial joy begins to fade; Ash always returns my calls, and his silence since I left the apartment fucking gnaws at me.
I start the car, the engine's rumble vibrating through my seat. Ash's absence overshadows my relief. This should have been a moment of pure joy, a milestone marking the end of a dark chapter, but the worry is fucking overwhelming.
"What's wrong?" Five asks, turning down the bass.
"I'm worried about Ash," I admit, concentrating on the road as I shift gears and pull away from the parking lot.
I accelerate, the wind rushing in through the open windows. From the corner of my eye, I see Five repeatedly trying to reach Ash, each failed attempt fueling my growing panic. The silence on the drive home is agonizing, my anxiety escalating into a suffocating dread.
Instead of parking in the garage, I pull up to the curb, resigned to feeding the fucking meter to avoid a ticket. Calista and Killian aren't here, adding to our urgency, but I know that they'll be arriving any minute now since they weren't too far behind us.
"He's probably sleeping," Five says, attempting to soothe my rising desperation.
But a deep-seated fear takes hold. After so much heartbreak, the anticipation of disaster feels almost instinctive—a chilling premonition that overshadows any rational thought. He's probably just bored, passed out from being alone all day, I tell myself, but the words feel absolutely hollow.
I force a smile as I unlock the door—a smile that doesn't reach my eyes. Five's reassuring words hold absolutely no fucking conviction. We enter, met by a rush of cold air. Five heads for Ash's room, while I notice the open balcony door and anxiously bolt right to it.
A knot tightens in my stomach, and a lump forms in my throat that I can't swallow, a silent prayer escaping my lips. Empty vodka bottles litter the balcony, and for some strange reason, it's an unusual, chilling sight. Then I see him.
"Ash!" I cry, dropping to my knees beside his lifeless body, cradling his head in my hands.
My hands tremble as I frantically search for a pulse, tears welling in my eyes. Five now stands frozen behind me; the sight before him has fear etched on his face, and it takes a lot for Five to show that emotion.
"Fucking call 911!" I demand, laying Ash on his back and beginning CPR.
The world blurs into a chaotic swirl of color and sound, a deafening ringing in my ears. I see Five's lips moving, but can't hear him. The compressions feel futile, but I keep going, not willing to give up just yet.
"NO! ASH!" Calista's screams cut through the noise, jolting me back to reality.
She rushes towards me, but Five intervenes, pulling her into his arms as Killian kneels beside me. She fights Five, trying to break free, but he wraps his arms around her tiny body and manages to pull her into the apartment, away from the frantic scene I'm trapped in.
"What the fuck happened?" he asks, frantically trying to wake Ash by rubbing firmly along his sternum.
"I... I don't know. We found him like this. I have no idea how long he's been out.” My voice cracks, my focus solely on the rhythm of the compressions.
Killian spots the empty bottles and drug paraphernalia scattered around Ash's lifeless body, and in a panic, he bolts.
"Let me try something. I'll be right back," he yells, disappearing inside.
The rain falls, thunder echoing like angry cries, lightning illuminating the scene. My best friend, my brother, lies unconscious, my CPR efforts feeling hopeless as I wait for paramedics to arrive.
He can't be gone. He just fucking can't.
Killian returns with Narcan. After biting off the cap, he administers two doses, one in each nostril, but to no avail. Calista's screams still pierce the air, a devastating symphony of chaos and despair. This time, the fear is very fucking real—a chilling premonition that we might not all survive this.
We're not as untouchable as we fucking think. This shit right here proves it.
The sirens wail in the distance, growing louder with each passing second. The rhythmic thump of my chest compressions feels weak, pathetic against the enormity of the situation. Time stretches, each second an agonizing eternity. My muscles burn, my lungs scream for air, but I can't stop. I can't. Not yet.
Then, a flicker. A tiny, almost imperceptible twitch in Ash's leg. My heart leaps into my throat, like a frantic bird trapped in a cage of ribs. I continue the compressions, fueled by a renewed hope, a desperate clinging to the possibility of a miracle. Another twitch, this time more pronounced, making his eyelids flutter. But he still doesn't wake up.
Finally, the paramedics arrive, a flurry of activity surrounding us. They take over, their practiced movements efficient and reassuring, yet the fear remains, a cold hand gripping my heart. They attach the defibrillator pads, the air thick with the smell of antiseptic and fear.
A shock.
Silence.
Then, a ragged gasp. Ash coughs, a rattling sound that fills me with a relief so profound it almost fucking breaks me.
He's alive.
But all of a sudden he begins to seize, his body shaking uncontrollably as two paramedics hold him down so he doesn't do further damage to himself. And then his eyes close again; this time they don't open back up. And then another seizure attacks his body, and then another, never stopping for more than thirty seconds.
The world shifts back into focus, the blur of chaos igniting again. I see Calista collapsing onto Killian, her sobs wracking her body. Five stands beside me, his face pale, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and exhaustion.
The paramedics load Ash onto a stretcher, their voices a low hum in the background. I follow, my legs unsteady, my body trembling with the aftermath of adrenaline and terror.
The ambulance speeds away, its red and blue lights a beacon in the stormy night. The rain continues to fall, washing away the immediate horror, but leaving behind a residue of fear and uncertainty. We stand here, huddled together, the silence broken only by Calista's quiet weeping. The empty vodka bottles and drug paraphernalia remain scattered on the balcony, a stark reminder of the gut wrenching catastrophe.
Killian looks at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and relief.
"I... I should have seen this coming," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.
I don't answer. I don't know what to say. The weight of what happened hangs heavy in the air, a suffocating blanket of fear and grief. Ash's uncertain condition has shattered something within us, leaving a gaping hole where our carefree camaraderie once resided.
The lightness I felt just hours ago is gone, replaced by a profound sense of loss and the chilling realization of our own mortality. The road ahead is uncertain, fraught with the challenges of recovery and the lingering shadow of what could have been. But for now, we cling to the fragile thread of hope for Ash's survival, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit, and a promise to face whatever comes next, together.