ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴠɪᴏʀ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇʀ sᴀʟᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴs

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟖

❝ 𝐎𝐡 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐰𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐤
𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐬
𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐰𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝
𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡

𝐈𝐟 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐬
𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐞 𝐦𝐞
𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐚
𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞 ❞

- 𝐊𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞, "𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫"

"So I may have fucked up," his raspy voice lit a ball of fear in my chest as I hurried out of my room, stopping at Aaron's door. 

"Where are you? Did you get home?" I asked, my mind running all over the place. 

Before he answered I had already woken up my brother and told him to look after the twins; one look at my face and he nodded, not even questioning me. 

His lack of response made my heart threaten to crawl up my throat, I insisted, feeling useless as I ran out to take one of the neighbor's bike, "Ajax! Ajax, why the fuck are you not answering me?"

My eyes teared up, and my hold on the handle bar wobbled, I cried out desperately, "Ajax! Answer me goddammit!" 

The silence on his end made my heart clench. I pedaled faster, the tears now freely flowing down my face as my thoughts ran wild. I couldn't handle this. Everything but this. I wasn't strong enough to lose my bestfriend. I was begging, not even praying, just begging to anyone and everyone who could hear to not make this real. To not let the world take him away from me right fucking now. 

My voice cracked as I yelled hopelessly his name in vain. "Talk to me! Answer! I don't know what to do! I don't- what do I- fuck! Just answer me!" He wasn't answering. Why wasn't he answering? He needs to answer me. I needed him to answer me. 

A sob echoed in the empty street, as I struggled to breathe, my voice was a mere shaky whisper as I tried once more, "Ajax... please... please, you need to answer..." but my words were only heard by the heavy silence of his absence, "please..."

"I- home." A relieved sob escaped my lips and I cried harder, my hands shaking so much it almost looked like I was having a seizure.  

"Okay-okay-okay. Hang on. Hang on for me, okay, I'm going to call 911, just hang on, I'm almost there."

I knew I wouldn't get an answer, but I foolishly stayed on the line for a few more seconds hoping that he would miraculously be able to respond. I bit my bottom lip until it drew blood and hung up. 

I dialed the number, my feet pedaling so fast, they eventually got caught between the pedals and sent me crashing down on my side. 

I didn't let go of the phone and completely ignored my state as I heard someone's voice, "911, what's your emergency?"

I didn't waste a second, "My friend is hurt, it's really bad but I don't know the extent of his injuries, and he couldn't really answer me, but he did tell me he was home. I don't know if he's unconscious or awake, I don't know if he's going to be alright. I don't- I don't even- he didn't answer for so long, god, he didn't talk for so long-" 

"Ma'am, you need to calm down. We're going to need his location to be able to help your friend. Take a deep breath and tell us where he is."

I swallowed, my wide eyes watering again, "He- he's at home, at-" after giving away his address I got back on the bike and continued heading to his place all the while trying to dial Ajax again. 

He wasn't picking up and I wasn't hanging up. Every time I heard that horrible high pitched automated voice, I just called him again. It was stupid and silly but it was all I had at the moment to keep me going. 

The sight of his house made me sigh in relief. Throwing the bike away, I burst inside, my eyes scanning every corner in search for him. 

Sobs racked my body when I ran to the kitchen and found him lying on the ground, completely still, barely breathing. 

I fell to my knees next to him, my hands shaking above his body, not knowing if it was okay to touch him. My tears mixed with my sweat as I tried to get my bearings. My quivering hands took hold of his face and placed it gently in my lap. I then looked over his injuries, trying to wrap my mind around the danger he was in. The life and death situation he was possibly battling.

I slightly touched his abdomen where his clothes were ripped up and I drew back, only to be met with bloodied hands. 

My breathing picked up. I had his blood on my hands. His warm blood that is supposed to be flowing in his veins. 

I was hyperventilating by now, my thoughts torn between hating myself for the state I was in, and going crazy for the state he was in. I quickly took off my hoodie and pressed down on his stomach, hoping to be of some use somehow.   

A weight formed behind my eyelids and I just wished I could wake up. I wished I could wake up, go to school and find him waiting for me, annoying and teasing me all day. 

I wished that everything was okay. 

But everything was not okay. Not anymore. And I don't think it has been for a long time. 

So I just wished that everything would be okay. 

But that was all it was, wishes from a breaking heart. From a beaten down girl who couldn't even help her bestfriend when he needed it the most. 

My throat burned as I tried to get the words out, my lips trembling and my voice a quiet whimper, "You idiot... you promised me..."

I sat there, staring at his peaceful face. I didn't shift my focus even when the paramedics arrived and took him away from my hold. My eyes stared at him as they rushed to get him into the ambulance and to the hospital. Numbness was all that was left now, because now that he was gone, the possibility of him being gone for the rest of my life settled in my mind. 

I was standing in the threshold of his front door, gazing silently at everything around me. The neighbors were now awake, some were standing outside, some were watching from their windows. There were whispers, a lot of them. But I didn't pay mind to them, I was just looking at the paramedics. 

I snapped out of whatever funk I went in when I saw them about to close the doors, "Wait!" 

I sprinted towards the ambulance, the need to be there for him overpowering everything else. I jumped up, and directly made my way to sit near his head, making sure to stay out of their way so they could work on making him better.

As they shuffled around him, I played softly with his hair, just like I used to do when we were kids to calm him down. I leaned down and pressed my lips to his forehead, my eyes shutting tight as I wished his would just open. 

I ended up murmuring occasional comforting words, knowing he couldn't hear me but feeling the need to make my presence known, "I'm here and you're going to be okay." 

But I didn't know who I was trying to convince anymore.