Requiem For A Dream // Phan

32; Six Degrees Of Separation.

**TW**

Quote of the Day: If you're not going to speak up, how is the world gonna know you exist?

Question of the Day: How do you handle violence? I usually am very calm, and just utterly annoyed that its happening in front of me.

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-"Call an ambulance!" I yelled to Frank, I grabbed a towel from the counter and started to wash out some of the foam so he could attempt to breathe. I put my lips to his mouth and pushed a gush of air into him before trying to do CPR. I remember learning this. I put two hands on his chest and started pumping, trying to get some blood flow.

"What the hell do we do?! He's dying for fuck's sake!" Everyone was frantically trying to help in some way but they were only distracting me from what I was doing, making me panic in the process. 

"Shut the fuck up, will you!?" I yelled fumbling with my hands a bit, everyone was breathing heavily. Where the fuck is Phil when you need him? 

    We heard sirens outside the apartment and I sighed in relief, cause I don't think I could continue to do this any longer, my arms were aching and my chest hurt from breathing so frantically. But I kept pumping his chest, trying to focus on my breathing and him trying to breathe. We heard knocks at the door, and Frank flew it open. The men in uniforms had some type of gurney and an air compressor of some sort. They hooked him up to a couple machines before lifting him. 

   I could hear faint heartbeats on the machine, but not strong. He was dying, he was fucking dying, Holy shit. I was right on there heels when they were going down the stairs, I kept up with them as they hassled him into the truck.

"You family?" A man asked me, I nodded. 

"Um, brother." I quickly said and they opened the door for me, I climbed in and sat on the cold seat next to a bunch of different tools. I grabbed Brendon's cold hand and looked out the window to see Phil scrambling to get in the car with Frank and Gee. 

One thing after another.

"Has he taken anything?" My breath hitched a bit.

"Not that I know of," 

"What had happened?" The man asked while trying to get Brendon breathing.

"W-Well, he just -- Collapsed. He had come over and I was cooking and as he was talking to us, and he just- he just fell and started having a seizure."

"Are you sure you don't know if he took anything? Or in the past at all?" Fuck, I had to. What if they don't know what's wrong with him and they blame it on something else and it kills him? I've watched too many fucking movies for this shit.

"Sir?" He snapped me out of it. I sighed,

"This is crucial information, we may need it to save his life." He told me, 

I have to.

"Fuck, okay, I believe he is on something, I don't know what but in the past it used to be coke and other hardcore shit. I used to be involved but I just got out of rehab about a month ago, now." His eyes told me that he was grateful, and he nodded once at me. I feel like I just ruined Brendon's life, but also saved it in the same night. 

"What the hell are you doing with that?" The needle was at least three inches long, and the tube was fairly large. 

"You ever seen pulp fiction?" I nodded and he gestured to Brendon. Oh, Oh, Jesus Christ.