Page 55 of Switch!

He’s dead. Oh shit. I never wanted this to happen on my shift. How horrible. The poor kid!

I’m dead. Caleb is dead. I don’t know what’s going on. I feel like I’m watching TV as the camera swings to check on another paramedic who is crouched over Eddie. A police car is parked next to the ambulance, the officer trying to calm the driver who hit us. The paramedic stands to see if he can be of help.

Might not be too late for the other one. I hope they aren’t brothers or— Fuck. I think I’m going to be sick.

These aren’t my thoughts. This isn’t my body. I’m not in control. I don’t know who or what I am anymore, so I find a quiet place at the back of a stranger’s mind, curl up into a ball, and try to make myself wake up from this nightmare.

Seventeen ↔ Chapter

I don’t want to see any of it.

A police officer takes photos of a gory scene. A woman weeps, blaming herself for the carnage. Caleb bleeds out onto the street. Eddie’s unmoving body is loaded into an ambulance.

I don’t want to witness these events, and yet, I don’t have eyes of my own to close. I manage to shield myself from some of the details. I don’t know how. I’m not entirely sure I’m alive, because this doesn’t feel like any of my previous experiences.

I just want this shift to end.

That’s what I keep hearing over and over, but not as a vague impression. It’s someone else’s thoughts. The paramedic. Many of the words he thinks are medical terminology that I don’t understand. When he gets into the back of the ambulance and positions himself next to the stretcher, I force myself to face reality. Eddie still isn’t moving. He has an oxygen mask over his mouth, so he isn’t dead, but I’m worried that he might be dying.

Vitals are stable.

Why isn’t he waking up?

Blunt force trauma from the impact must have knocked him out. It’s good he was wearing a helmet. Best not to wake him. Let the ER doctors deal with it. That way if something does go wrong…

Are we having a conversation?

Jesus, I must be tired.

Can you hear me?

“Did you say something,Stan?” The paramedic leans to the left to see up front. The man in the driver’s seat is heavyset with a thick brown beard.

“We’re almost there,” Stan replies. He’s older and more experienced at this sort of thing.

“You heard the man,” my host says. “Hang in there, buddy.”

He’s talking to Eddie now, who doesn’t respond. I’m used to seeing him grinning or cracking jokes. He was always so animated. So restless. Now he’s just lying there, his brown skin pallid where it isn’t scratched and scraped.

Right arm is looking even more swollen. I bet it’s broken.

Guilt swells up inside me. I don’t know if that makes the paramedic feel guilty too, or if he can hear my thoughts—however indirectly—so I try to keep quiet. I don’t want him to think he’s going crazy.

“A night like this would make anyone go crazy,” the paramedic murmurs to himself with a sigh.

I withdraw as much as I can, not wanting to be a distraction. Especially while Eddie needs medical attention. Only when the ambulance arrives at the hospital and Eddie is wheeled into the emergency room do I become more alert. The staff seem to be expecting us. Stan gives them a quick update on the situation before Eddie is wheeled away. I watch as he slowly disappears down the hall.

The paramedic is already starting to turn away, but I don’t want to leave. I have to make sure Eddie will be okay, so I instinctively assert control, using the same method I perfected in Calculus class. Singular focus.

The rubber sole of a shoe on linoleum, a sock damp from nervous sweat, a heel slightly lifted…

STOP.

The body I’m in jerks to a halt. I look down the hall again, but Eddie is already gone. I begin to follow him before a hand grabs my shoulder.

“You okay, Jesse?”

I turn around to see the ambulance driver, Stan, wearing a concerned expression.