Dan’s POV
We were in the middle of check out when my phone rang. “’Ello?” I answered casually.
“Dan…? Help…” It was Haylee, but she sounded nothing like herself. Her voice was broken and hoarse. She sounded weak and like she’d been crying. Instantly, I broke out in a cold sweat and felt sick.
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
“I’m s-so c-cold, Dan. Its dark… my throat hurts. Help…” she begged. My adrenaline kicked in.
“Stay on the phone, Hays.” I told her. “Tamara!” I cried, turning to Haylee’s mum. “I need you to call an ambulance and send it to the house. Haylee’s really ill and injured.” Fear set in into Tamara’s eyes, but she scrambled for her phone and did as I said. We cancelled our items and dashed from the store. “Hays, are you still there?”
“Y-yeah… Dan, I’m sorry.” She whispered, starting to cry. We were five minutes from the house and Tamara sped, not caring about the limit. In record time we got to the house. She unlocked the front door and I burst in, dashing up the stairs as fast as I physically could. I flung open the bedroom door and dashed to Haylee’s side. I took ahold of her hand and gasped. She was so cold. I checked for a pulse. She had one, thankfully. Her phone lay beside her, where she’d dropped it. Her eyes fluttered open and she stared at me. “D-Dan…”
“Shh, don’t speak love. It’s alright. Someone is on their way to help, okay?” I soothed. Haylee just started to cry. I wrapped a blanket around her and tried to warm her up. I didn’t know where her cuts were, but judging by what she was wearing, I could guess. A few moments later, the paramedics came in and began their work. Tamara led me from the room, a hand on my shoulder. We waited in the living room until they brought her out. They said that one of us would have to go with her. Tamara just looked at me and nodded, signaling that she’d follow behind in her car. She needed to finish up some things here. I climbed into the ambulance and held Haylee’s hand. Her skin was so white it matched the sheets except for the red patches appearing where her legs and stomach were. I felt sick. She’d been fine when I left and I knew that she had to have had a nightmare or something worse. I wasn’t sure, but maybe her dad had come over.
They rushed her straight back as soon as we got to the hospital and I was directed into a waiting room with Haylee’s mum. I glanced at my phone, realizing it was already the next morning in France and that Phil and Chassidy would be up soon. I sent Phil a couple of panicked texts telling him to call. He called minutes later and while I couldn’t tell him what was going on for fear of ruining his vacation, I did tell him that I needed to explain something when we all got back. I hung up, not really hearing what he said. I was too distracted as the doctor had just walked in. “How is she?” I asked.
“Not good. Her vitals are terrible and she lost quite a lot of blood. She has laryngitis and her body can’t fight it off with this little blood in her system. We are out of her type and I’m not sure we can get any tonight. She needs it now, or she’ll die.” I sucked in a breath. It felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. Suddenly, an idea formed in my head.
“Test me. I might be her type!” I cried. The doctor just nodded and led me to a room. A nurse came in a few minutes later and took some blood. I didn’t even feel it; my mind was spinning out of control and I felt so terrified. The doctor returned moments later.
“You’re her type. We need at least a pint. You may feel a little weak and tired afterwards, but you’ll recover rather quickly since you’re healthy.” He explained. I just nodded and waited. The nurse came back and took the blood. She left almost as quickly as she’d entered, handing me an orange juice. The doctor led me back to the waiting room to wait with Tamara. I gave her a small hug and let her cry into my shoulder. I felt like I should be crying but I just felt…dead. I couldn’t cry or manage any emotion at this point. I slipped out of the room to call Phil. He had to know now. They both did.
