I Do What I Do » John Taylor

XXVI

What the fuck.

Blood.

Everywhere.

It's like a fucking crime scene. It's on the wall by the window, all over the bed...The sheets and covers on it are completely stained. There's an antique chair covered in blood, too. As I slowly walk past the bathroom I'm able to see more. A bottle of Stolichnaya vodka on the floor. It's broken. The edges are lined with gloops of that same thick red liquid. It's like one entire side of the room is covered with it. By now I've begun shaking. Where the fuck is all of this blood coming from?

And that's when I spot him.

John. In the corner. Sitting, no rocking— on a chair. He's whimpering quietly. I was right...I did hear breathing. I walk over to him, still shaking from the panic. I don't know what to do. As I get closer to him I begin to see that there's a trail of blood going down the leg of the chair. It leads to a puddle on the carpet beside it. God, there's so much that it's not even being soaked up by the carpet anymore. I can't see the origin, though. He's clutching himself, still crying as he rocks.

"John?" I ask quietly. Unsurprisingly, he doesn't answer. I kneel in front of him and look him in the eyes. He's out of it. Completely and totally gone. I can't say that he knows what's going on right now or that I'm actually here, to begin with. "John...move your hands."

His hands tremble like crazy as they slowly begin to move away from his foot. That's when I finally start to see where all of the blood is coming from. It's his foot. Horror rushes over me as I see it. The underside of his foot is covered top to bottom with a mass of cuts. Shards. Shards from the bottle are...embedded in them.

"Oh my fucking," I gulp, "God..." I bring myself up to sit on the arm of the chair. I nervously reach for the phone on the nightstand and dial for the office. "I— we need a medic," I breathe in a panic, tears forming in my eyes. "It's my boyfriend," I cry out. "Quick. Please." I nearly slam the phone down and turn back to John.

My head is spiraling. What if they take too long? What...what if it's already too late? Jesus, no. I slip behind him on the chair and wrap my arms around him in a tight hug to prevent him from continuing to move. "Honey, what happened?" I brush his hair back shakily with my hand and gulp. No answer. He's still crying. Hard. His breaths are deep. I lower my arm and hold both hands out, my arms still encasing the top halves of his. "Take my hands." He slowly grabs them and squeezes them. "I know. It's okay. They're on their way," I tell him quietly. I can feel the blood from his hands on mine. "It's okay." I keep repeating it to him. "It's okay. You're gonna be okay." I can't tell if I'm saying it to myself or him anymore. I'm fucking terrified.

I'm still trying to piece together what could've possibly happened. The last time I saw him was last night. He was fine. We'd gotten room service. He seemed sort of on edge, but I didn't think anything of it. He was nervous about the upcoming shows. After I'd left he must've taken cocaine. Lots of it. He'd had a few drinks with me too...fuck. That explains the empty bottle. Did he finish it himself...? It must've been lying empty on the floor...then he stepped on it in his subconscious state. That explains the...the spurting. I can't tell if he walked around with all of that glass in his foot or not, but it couldn't have possibly been pretty. The room isn't trashed. In fact, it looks nearly the same as it was before. It's just now coated with his blood.

It's my fault, I panic. I left him. Why didn't I just stay?

"Did you step on it?" I ask, calm as I can bring myself to be. I'm trying to hold back. He nods but then cries out in agony, which is the final thing to send me over the edge. I quietly sob into his shoulder. "I know. I'm here. It's me," I cry, "It's me...I've got you." His grip on my hands tightens, but he continues to stare forward, his eyes empty. "I promise, they're gonna help you, okay? They're gonna help you..." He nods again. "I love you. I'm sorry I left you here. I'm so sorry. I love you," I sob.