Page 4 of Stay With Me

After a solid minute and breathing into his mouth twice, Miller interrupts my counting. “Lemme take over, man. You’re gettin’ tired.”

“Do it fast and hard,” I tell him, then take the flashlight from him. “C’mon, Billy. Breathe, breathe!”

Miller does mouth-to-mouth before going back to his chest. After another thirty seconds, we switch again.

“I feel a pulse,” Miller confirms. “It’s weak, but I swear it’s there.”

I check for myself, and he’s right. It’s slow and faint, but his heart’s pumping and that’s all that matters.

When I put my ear to his mouth, I say, “He’s breathin’.”

Barely, but at least it’s something.

“Billy, can you hear me? Squeeze my hand,” I tell him, placing my fingers in his palm. But he doesn’t.

“Should we move him to the side of the road?” Miller asks as we continue to try to get a response from him.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to in case he has a neck or head injury. Billy? Can you move?”

No response.

I grab my phone and dial the sheriff again to give the dispatcher an update.

“I’ve let him know. He’s almost there,” she says after putting me on hold, and a wave of relief washes over me. “I notified the EMTs, too. You did the right thing. Hang tight, boys.”

“Stay with me, okay? Help’s on the way.” I take Billy’s hand in mine, waiting to see if he’ll squeeze or make any movements at all.

“Um…Tripp?” Miller’s shaky voice puts me on edge.

“What?”

“He’s uh…his lips are turnin’ blue.”

I place my fingers on his neck again and feel for his pulse. “It’s weak, but it’s still there.”

With my hands on Billy’s shoulders, I give him a little shake. “Keep breathin’, man.”

Miller’s face looks like he’s seen a ghost. “What if he lost too much blood? Or went too long without oxygen? He could be?—”

“Shut the fuck up, okay? He’sfine. He’s gonna be fine. Once the ambulance gets here, they’ll give him oxygen and fluids. He’ll survive this.”

He has to.

He’s my best friend—a fucking idiot—but my best friend nonetheless.

Finally, we hear the sirens and lights approach, followed by the EMTs.

We get out of their way when they place an oxygen mask over his face and put him on a gurney. The sheriff asks me to stay behind so he can get my statement, but I tell him he’ll have to follow me to the hospital because I’m not waiting.

As I drive us into town, I call my brother Landen, then our parents. Miller walks home since he has a house filled with drunk teenagers and wants to make sure no one else drives.

After ten minutes of sitting in the waiting room, my brother and parents show up. I explain more of what happened, and then Billy’s mom and dad barge in.

The nurse at the front desk wouldn’t tell me anything, but they promised to call his parents so they could at least give an update.

“Marissa,” my mom calls, cautiously walking up behind Billy’s mom.

“Dena, oh my God!” Marissa cries into Mom’s chest as she wraps an arm around her.