Drowning In My Own Mind

13

*Ricky*

I felt like I was being suffocated; if he could see the thing from my nightmares, if he could hear it, then it was real. It was real, it actually existed, it could actually... It could actually do the things it had shown me. It would do the things it had shown me.

"I-I need some... I need some air, I-I'll be back later..." I grabbed my jacket and pulled it on again, hurriedly walking out of the front door and just walking down the street, giving in to a 'stress relief' habit and buying a pack of cigarettes, one in my mouth the second I got out of the convenience store and lit soon after. I held the smoke in my lungs until I couldn't any longer and exhaled, feeling the nicotine race through my veins almost lovingly. I didn't want to think about the implications of what Chris had told me; there were too many unanswered questions already, too many unknown factors, not enough parts to the equation, no real foundation to start researching, and god-fucking-damn-it, I was tired of skirting the issues, I was tired of coming to locked door after locked door, bolted window after barricaded cellar entrance.

I need to go back to Seattle, back to Bellevue... I need to... I started walking back slowly, going through another two cigarettes and stuffing the pack into the inside pocket of my jacket. Pushing open the door, I felt my blood run hot, even as my heart froze in the cavity behind my breastbone and between my lungs. I left the door open behind me, running over to the prone, still figure in the floor of the living room, pulling him up just enough that his head rested in my lap.

"God-dammit, god-fucking-dammit..." I could feel the wet warmth of blood against my fingers, close to the base of his skull but not to either blood vessel, though it was definitely near enough to his spine to frighten me. I ripped off the shirt I was wearing, leaving me in a black wife beater, and pressed it to the wound, my other hand fumbling over the keys of my phone and then lifting it to my ear when I dialed the number I needed.

"Nine-one-one, what's your-"

"I-I need an-an ambulance, please, m-my boyfriend's been hurt badly; I-I came home a-and he-he was on the living room floor, he-he's bleeding... Please, I-I need an ambulance!"

"What's your location and name, sir?"

"R-Rick Olson, the address is ten-thirty-three, West Nelson; please hurry, the bleeding won't stop, I-I don't know what else to do, but it won't stop, it's already soaked through the shirt!" I could feel my emotions rising, hysteria and fear followed closely by panic and hatred, and falling behind the rising negativity was a single thread of something that felt like love but it was too innocently formed.

"Stay on the phone with me, Rick; I've got an ambulance en-route. Can you tell me what happened?" I took a deep breath, focusing on the steady voice of the man on the other end.

"I-I went o-on a walk, I-I was going to the c-convenience sto-store on Kathridge; w-was getting c-cigs, and I g-got home and he-he was lay-laying in the floor..." I could hear the sirens now, distant as they were, but I kept going. "I-I went over and he-he was bleeding, j-just laying there, he's n-not moving, I-I can barely tell he's breathing..." The sirens were closer now, and the operator said something about going to meet the EMTs, but I didn't catch it and simply hung up, waiting with his head still in my lap, his blood soaking my pants through the shirt; fuck, I hated the feeling of it, and the thick smell of salt and ozone that the liquid had was making me choke.

A pair of hands gently pulled me away from him and two people dressed in the uniforms of emergency responders got him patched up and taken care of in the back of an ambulance while an officer in navy blue sat me on the couch and I was still holding the blood-sopped shirt in my hand, knuckles white, the fabric wet and leaving red stains on my fingers.