WØRDS [Peterick]

five

Pete hadn't stayed over that much longer and didn't reply to my text messages on Saturday and Sunday, which really worried me. First I thought he was just sleeping until the afternoon or so, but he didn't answer in the evening either.

On Sunday I was so worried that I asked my mum to call at Pete's house but there seemed to be no one at home. Or they just didn't answer the call. So I decided to just go there. I rang the bell several times and eventually threw things against Pete's window but nothing happened. Also the car wasn't there but that was no surprise since Pete had told me his parents wanted to visit his aunt. He had decided to stay home. Maybe he just decided to go with them but he probably would've told me. And that was why I was worried.

I went into the garden again to throw something against Pete's window one more time. But this time I noticed that the curtains were pulled down. They were actually always open. Pete also used to sleep with them up. And the window was open, too. Still I could here no music. Worst case scenarios ran through my mind and I slightly began to panic. My thoughts were racing. Hadn't Pete told me there was a key under some rock in the garden? He most definitely had, I just couldn't remember which one.

I felt dizzy while running from stone to stone lifting them up then down again when there was no key. I finally found it after about five rocks and ran to the front door as fast as I could. I opened the door with shaking hands and ran right up the stairs. I wanted to call Pete's name but I couldn't. So I just ran up to his room. Nothing. There was no one there.

I stayed there not sure what to do until I heard a muffled sound from somewhere. Probably a room next to Pete's one. I went out of his room and heard it again. Sobbing. Shit.

It came from the bathroom and I couldn't get there fast enough. I burst through the door. And then I just stood there shocked, taking in the scenario that had happened. Pete was lying on the floor curled up into a ball. Blood around him. He was shaking and sobbing. He was alive. Still I began to panic. I didn't know if he had heard me and I just stood there my heart beating faster then I thought it could and I didn't know what to do. There was so much blood. I needed to do something.

"PETE", I shouted. I don't think I had ever shouted before. Pete immediately stopped sobbing and let himself kind of fall to his side revealing his arm and wrist. There were several cuts on it. Some just scratches but some really deep.

"Patrick?", he whispered weakly, then rolled on his back closing his eyes. "Pete! Pete!", I yelled and ran up to him. But he was unconscious. I needed to call an ambulance. But how? I couldn't make a phone call. But I had to. I had to overcome my anxiety. I just had to.

So I pulled out my phone and dialled 911.

"911, what's the emergency?", a rough voice asked and I felt myself panicking again. "My ... my ... friend ... he ... tried to ... kill himself", I choked out with effort. "Is he conscious?" I shook my head then remembered he couldn't see me. "No." "Where are you?", he asked and I told him Pete's address so that he could send an ambulance. "Try to keep him stable and open the door. The ambulance will be there in a few minutes", he said and after my "ok" he hung up. I went back to Pete and tried to stop the bleeding at least a bit.

After about five minutes I heard the sirens. They stopped in front of the door which I had kept open when I first went in. They climbed up the stairs and I pressed myself to the wall to give them more space. They first took care of his wounds after looking if he was breathing. Then they took him to the ambulance and I followed. They motioned me to get in too and I did.

When they had put an IV into Pete's veins and started driving one of the paramedics turned to me. "What exactly happened?" I just looked at him. I didn't know. I could just guess. Well, he had cut his wrists. Obviously. I just didn't know why. "Do you know what happened?", he tried again and I shook my head. "I ... I found him like ... like this", I said barely about a whisper and looked at the ground. "It's okay", he said friendly, "I know this must be a shock for you." "No ... well, yeah ... but ... I have ...", I had to swallow, "selective mutism." "So you actually don't speak?", the paramedic asked confused. I shook my head. "No ... it's more ... complicated ... I guess", I added. "Well, then..."

When we arrived at the hospital they immediately took Pete away to a physician and showed me where to wait. After about five minutes a nurse came into the waiting room, a notebook in her hand. "My name is Monica. I was told that you have selective mutism so I brought you something to write", she told me and gave me the notebook. "No", I just said, "I ... I will try to talk." "Okay, I'll still keep the notebook here", Monica said and put it on a small desk next to her. "Do you know how we can contact Pete's parents?", she asked. Luckily I had the number of Pete's mum's mobile phone saved so I could give it to the nurse. She asked me again if I knew what had happened and I told her – stuttering – how I had found Pete. She then walked away to call Pete's mum and I decided to call my mum.

"Patrick?", she answered the phone. "Mum?" "Patrick, where are you? I'm worried." "I'm at the hospital. Pete ... he ... he tried to ... kill himself", I said very quietly and noticed that I had started crying. It had just hit me what had happened. The first shock was gone and my thoughts were back to rationality again. My mum didn't answer right away. It felt as if the line was dead. I could almost feel her shock. "Mum?", I asked after what felt like hours. "I'm ... I'm coming to the hospital ... right now", she just said and hung up. I wanted to tell her to drive carefully but she was too fast so I just sat there, tears streaming down my face, waiting for her.

It didn't even take her ten minutes to get there and when she came into the waiting room and saw me, she just gave me a long hug. "Patrick, I am so sorry", she said and I could hear that she was crying too. After some minutes we both almost stopped crying. "What happened?", mum asked carefully, reaching for the notebook which she had noticed. "No!", I said again and my mum looked at me confused but also kind of happy. Well, as happy as she could look in that situation. So I told her the whole story from the beginning where I threw rocks against Pete's window to when I called her. My stuttering wasn't even that bad except for the time the nurse – Monica – came into the room to tell us that Pete's parents were on their way.

About one and a half hour later Pete's parents arrived at the hospital too. They looked bad. Worried and exhausted. His mum had been crying and was now fighting to hold back the tears. But when my mum hugged her she started crying again as well as my mum. But I stayed strong this time. Still I felt kind of dizzy. I hadn't cried that much, but talking felt exhausting. As well as the whole situation. The worried thoughts about how Pete was right then didn't help but I just couldn't turn them off. What if he was dying right then and there and I couldn't see him one last time?

Thoughts were running crazy in my head. It was too much. All too much...

.

I woke up to a bright light above me and had to blink to get used to it. I tried to sit up but my head hurt really bad and I noticed that there was an IV in my veins now connected to some colourless liquid in a plastic bottle above my bed. Monica was changing it when I looked up to it. She smiled at me.

"Patrick. How do you feel?", she asked sweetly. "Uhm, my head hurts. What happened?", I asked back. "You fainted and fell right on your head. You have a concussion. But not a bad one. You can leave this evening." I nodded lightly at her, still feeling a bit confused.

Then it hit me. "What about Pete? Where is he? How is he?"

-

Sorry for the cliffhanger. (Nah, I'm not sorry actually.)

-jo