Before I Forget

Minutes, Hours, Years

Dead.
She's dead. And it's my fault.

That thought brought Hawk to his knees. It crushed his chest, it was a hole in the place of his heart, sucking out the life of him. He was going to be sick, his stomach turned—

"Call 911!" Nicholas' voice cut through Hawk's fogged senses. "Eli! Call 911! She's alive!"

"What—?"

"Call 911!"

Hawk wiped his face. Nicholas was still on his knees by the bed, but his fingers were on Sky's neck feeling the pulse—

She's alive!

That thought made Hawk burst into action. His hands were trembling as he pulled his phone from his pocket, he could barely manage dialing 911, the phone almost fell from his cold, numb fingers, but he managed and in no time someone picked up.

"911, What's your emergency?"

His voice came out raspy, broken. "My girlfriend— she's tried to kill herself. She's taken some pills—"

"Is she unconscious?"

"Yeah—"

"How old is she?"

"Sixteen—"

"And do you know what she's taken?"

"I'm— I'm not sure— wait—" Hawk got on his feet, glanced around and saw the empty pill bottles on Sky's desk. He told the names of the medicines, and then, knowing Sky, added: "And maybe something else too, I really don't know—"

"Alright, I'm sending an ambulance. And the address is?"

Hawk turned his eyes back to Sky's bluish, vomit-stained face as he told the address. Somehow he managed to reply to every question the person on the phone asked. His answers came out pretty coherent and straight, even if he sure as Hell wasn't feeling coherent at all. All he wanted to do was cry and scream and beg them to send help already, to fucking save Sky's life already. But he knew it wouldn't make the help reach them any faster. He knew the best way to help, was to try and stay as calm as possible—

But it was fucking impossible.

His heart was smashed into pieces and it was a struggle even to breathe. Somehow he managed through the phone call, and when the woman on the phone said the help was only minutes away and he could hang up now, he was so relieved he was trembling.

They carried Sky downstairs - or Nicholas did, with Hawk helping by keeping Napoleon out of the way and by grabbing the empty medicine bottles in case the paramedics wanted to see them.

The minutes they waited for help were the longest of Hawk's life.

The help was coming, Hawk kept telling himself, it was coming, it was close - but every minute felt like a year.

Nicholas had laid Sky on the living room couch. He had wiped her face with a wet towel, cleaned the vomit off her lips, off her hair, all the time murmuring loving, soothing words to her, calling her name with a broken voice, begging her to stay with him.

But Hawk sat on the floor, staring at his feet, fighting the urge to start screaming and smashing things.

He knew this was his fault. He knew he had no right to even be here.

If Nicholas realized this was his doing—

If Sky died—

He couldn't finish those thoughts. He couldn't keep his mind straight. The shock of seeing Sky lifeless on the bed had knocked all strength off him, and the relief over the fact that she wasn't dead - yet - had been a tsunami that had blown the breath off his lungs.