Pay the Price

Chapter 38- Quick Save

Bryson and Larisa ran to Christopher's bedroom. They practically broke down the door, storming into his bathroom. Quickly, Bryson tore the shower curtains from their hinges, shut off the shower, and pulled Christopher out from the tub and onto the bathroom floor. He was right. Christopher had fainted and was almost fully submerged in water and blood.

The water almost went into his nose as he breathed, his shirt was stained pink with diluted blood, though there were darker red patches from where his arms had rested on his torso. To ensure absolutely no water got into his lungs, Christopher was forced into a sitting position by Bryson, his back almost being punched to get him coughing. Larisa wanted to scold Bryson for it as Christopher's back would most certainly bruise from the impact, but she refrained as it was for her nephew's safety.

But seeing Christopher get hit at all made her want to attack anyone who tried to get close to him. Even with the sound, she tried blocking it out as to be able to help her husband with ensuring their nephew was okay. It proved to be a difficult task to her. She just wanted to take Christopher into her embrace and not let him go.

At the same time of Christopher's back being slapped, she began to put pressure on his wrists to stop the bleeding. Christopher started coughing, but instead of any water coming out, it was just phlegm. He hadn't inhaled any water, which relieved Bryson. Before anything else, Bryson checked Christopher's wounds.

"Larisa, honey, can you get alcohol treatment and wrappings please?" He asked, taking over with applying pressure. With zero hesitation, Larisa went to get those items from her husband's medical room. Connor entered, very confused by the ruckus, but when he saw his brother, he panicked. "Connor, please get him a full set of dry clothes. These ones are wet. I don't want him to get sick. Do not panic, everything is going to be fine."

Connor listened, getting clothes as Bryson carried Christopher out, four towels over his shoulders. One for Christopher's hair, one for his wrists, one to dry Christopher off, and one to lie under him to keep him off of the ground. Larisa ran back in, put the items on the bedside table before using one of the towels to wrap Christopher's hair, keeping it out of the way.

She carefully started rubbing the towel along his hair to quicken the drying process, and Bryson used another towel, continuously pressing on the wounds until they were somewhat closed. Then he soaked the towel in rubbing alcohol and began to carefully rub along his wrists without re-splitting the wounds. In his unconscious state, Christopher tried to rip his arms away, but it was futile. So, he kicked at Bryson instead, to which Connor pinned his ankles down. Bryson grabbed the bandages, beginning to wrap Christopher's wrists tightly before using medical tape to secure it down.

Myrah also walked in just as Christopher's arms were cleaned of blood, treated with the alcohol, and wrapped tightly to prevent any bacteria from getting into the open injuries. They were shallow enough that stitches were not necessary.

"Is that blood on his clothes?" Myrah asked, approaching Christopher to get a closer look at his shirt. "Those clothes need to be tossed. That's a biohazard and could make him very sick, even if they're washed." She got a pair of scissors, cutting the shirt off of him, which had the most blood in it.

After just a few minutes, Christopher was dried, dressed into fresh clothes, his other set thrown into the fire place, and he was in bed, sleeping. He was lying on his front while Larisa dried and combed his hair more properly. Then she noticed he had begun shivering, very cold as he lie without a blanket over him.

She felt terrible that he was cold, but Bryson wanted to keep an eye on Christopher's wrists, which was easier without his blanket. He had a habit of curling his arms underneath him, and lack of a blanket made it easier to see his arms, even if they were beneath him.

"How on earth did you know this was happening to him?" Larisa asked, deciding to check her nephew's medication bottles to ensure the correct amount of pills were gone for the month. She was terrified that he'd overdose to try and kill himself a second time. She counted the tablets, finding the correct amount was still inside. She was relieved that he hadn't tried again. "How did he faint?"

"Blood loss, waiting too long to shower after taking his medication. How I knew is I had a dream about it. I woke up, and heard the shower running, so I knew it was happening." Bryson said. "Connor, Myrah, thank you for your help. You two can sleep in as much as you both want tomorrow. When you wake up, I'll take you out to get whatever you want."

Once they were dismissed, Christopher started moving around until he had woken up due to the cold. When he realised he was fine and not at least lethargic from blood loss, he sighed in anger and frustration. He punched the pillow in anger, stuffing his face into the material.

"I just want to die! I'm in fucking pain and I can't fucking do this!" He screamed into the pillow, completely irate. "I'm scarred, traumatised, I've been deprived of everything, I have mental issues, and I'm fucking ugly. I've been tortured for so long, I can't do this." He started to cry, tearing at the pillow until it was shredded.

Bryson and Larisa felt their hearts pang in pain at hearing their nephew scream and cry. He hated his life and hated the body he was in. He hated what he was forced to do, what he would be forced to do, he despised himself, and he was sick and tired of everything. He just cried and screamed into the torn pillow until he passed out a second time. He was too exhausted to stay awake any longer.

"Poor darling," Larisa sighed, turning Christopher's head to the side so he could breathe, "we need to take him to a specialist. It is not good or normal for a child, or anyone for that matter, to want to die. I don't care whether we take him to a psychiatrist, psychologist, therapist, but we need to take him to someone." She said harshly to Bryson. "I know we've been trying to help him, but it isn't working. Nothing we're doing is good enough. If we don't get him to someone, he's going to do progressively worse things until he does serious damage to himself."

"I know, honey, I know." Bryson nodded, rubbing Christopher back before lifting his head to switch over the pillows. "I want him to hurt less as much as you do. I will call my boss tomorrow morning at the first possible opportunity to see if we can get him in for an emergency appointment tomorrow. But I can't guarantee if there is an opening with anyone. If not tomorrow, then the day after. We will get him the adequate help and treatment he needs, I promise."