Call Me Six

53: 'Don't Let Go' -Tobias

TOBIAS-

"Don't settle for being what people think you are. Break through their expectations and blow their minds. Don't let go of yourself..."

~

The house stinks. Wafts of smoke and alcohol hang in the air.

It's only two in the afternoon.

I find her shoes kicked messily by the door, the tray of keys is smashed on the floor. It's silent. Her jacket is puddled by the base of the coat hooks, her scarf caught on the doorknob.

"Tris?" I call, but there is no reply.

The farther I go, the worse it gets. The living room is trashed, one of the couches flipped over. The kitchen is a state, cupboards opened, the faucet running, a carton of orange juice dripping dry from where it lays open on the counter. And as I go upstairs, I'm greeted by the pungent intensity of fresh smoke and a bottle of liquor smashed on the floor, it contents soaked up by the dark carpet and slowly dissolving a handful of pills.

"Tris?"

I keep walking and hear a crunch beneath my foot. A cracked picture lays there, the faces distorted. A man, a woman, a boy and a baby grin behind the shards of glass. It's irreparable...

"Tris?"

I enter my room and the smell brings tears to my eyes. The entire room is swimming in thick clouds of smoke. Her clothes are scattered across the floor, her shirt hanging off the lamp on my desk.

"Tris?"

The bathroom door is thrown open. I can hear the shower running. She must be there, I think and call he name once more, "Tris?" but she still doesn't reply.

I poke my head around the corner and see her there, sprawled across the tub, a glass of whatever spilt on the floor. The shower rains down on her face, soaking her hair and streaming makeup down her cheeks. But it's then when I notice the faint red in her hair.

I quickly turn the shower off and move closer to her. One leg is angled awkwardly underneath her, the other hangs over the edge, her arms bend in odd angles against the white tile making her look like a rag doll.

Carefully, I scoop up the sodden girl and come across a pool of red blood beneath her head. Shit.

I place her down carful lay on the bed before wrapping a bathrobe around her ice-cold figure and grab my phone.

"911, what I your emer-"

"I need an ambulance," I don't even let the woman finish speaking. "Number three, Downland's Road. My girlfriend's hit her head and it's bleeding really badly and she's unconscious and I don't know how long she's been out for. She's drank a lot by the look of things and she's six months pregnant."

"Okay sir, we're sending one out for you, but for now can you answer these questions..."

~

She looked lifeless. Her beauty drowned out by the white sheets, bright lights, and bandage wrapped around her head. She was hooked up to God knows how many machines with tubes running in and out of her - a particularly large one shoved down her throat.

They said she was on the verge of alcohol poisoning, anymore and she'd be dead. When she fell, her left knee dislocated, a two inch gash carved itself into her head and a hairline fracture etched into her skull.

"You're so stupid, Tris," I sobbed into her cold, pale hand. "So, so, stupid."

Throughout my life, I've spent so much time surrounded by these hospital walls, but not once was I ill or injured. I was here with her, Sophie. And now Tris.

"Why, Tris?"

She's still out. They couldn't wake her.

Slowly, her chest rose and sank; each breath forced by a machine.

"You're so stupid."

The hum of machines and mutters that echoed through the thin walls surround me.

"Don't leave me, I don't think I'd survive long if you did... Tris."