Antidote

Chapter 32

Tristan's p.o.v.

After our argument, I felt bad for snapping at her. Maybe she really had a good explanation. So I walked to her room, planning on letting her explain herself. But she wasn't in the room. I called for her a couple of times: No response. This made me uneasy. Quickly I searched her closets, and finally, the bathroom. The sight I saw took my breath away, and not in a good sense either.

Alex was lying on the tile floor, a bloody razor beside her hand. Her eyes were shut, and her bathrobe was carelessly thrown over the toilet seat. But, scariest of all, she was lying in a pool of her own blood, and it was getting bigger by the second. Taking one glance at the slash on her wrist, I knew she'd done what Carrie had done, except this time, it wasn't accidental.

Quickly scooping her up, I flew downstairs and out the door to her mother's car. It didn't occur to me to get her mother or Reese until I was on the road.

Now I'm flying down Main Street, her bloody, lifeless body sprawled across two seats beside me. I'm probably going way over the speed limit, but I don't give a flying fuck if I get pulled over. If I can't get Alex to the hospital in time, she will die. And it'll be all my fault.

***

Finally I pull up to the ER entrance, carrying Alex bridal-style in towards the doctors. When the ER nurse looks at Alex, she quickly unstraps a walkie-talkie from her waist and says a few words into it. Then she turns to face me and says, "The doctor is on her way. Hang in there." I plop down in a chair, cradling Alex's face. I brush the hair from her forehead and give it a quick kiss. "Hang tight, baby," I whisper, pain lacing my tone. The doctor appears before me, towing a stretcher and two other doctors trailing her. She says, "We'll take it from here, son." I hand Alex over and they quickly lay her down on the stretcher and begin to wheel her in another direction.

I jump up to follow, but the ER nurse sits me back down. "Sorry, mister, but you're going to have to wait here while the doctors try and get your girlfriend stable." It dawns on me then that I've never asked Alex to be my girlfriend. But, I like being classified as her boyfriend, so I don't correct the nurse. She looks at me and asks, "Would you mind telling me what happened?"

Numbly I say, "She was cutting and she cut too deep and hit an artery or a vein." The nurse nods, writing something on her clipboard. "And where is the young lady's parents?" "I need to call her mom," I say, guilt overtaking me. "She doesn't have a dad." The lady nods sympathetically and hands me her phone. I dial the number of our beach house, hoping to God that somebody is home.

"Hello?" I recognize the voice as Reese's. I say, "Reese, it's me. Could you go get Alex's mommy for me?" Silence on the other end, so I'm assuming she already left to go find her.

After a few minutes, Alex's mom breathlessly says, "Hello?" "Hi, it's me. I need you to come down to Mercy Hospital right away. Bring Reese." "What happened?" she asks. "Are you all right? Are you with Alex? Is she all right?" "I'm fine," I say. "But Alex isn't." A clatter on the other end. I'm assuming she dropped the phone.

A few seconds later, she gets back on and says, "We're on our way."

***

I sit in the uncomfortable chair, waiting and hoping. I'm afraid to get my hopes up. I'm trying to prepare for the worst. Even more disturbing is the fact that this whole thing is entirely my fault. If I hadn't snapped at her like that, if I'd actually given her time to explain herself, she would not be here right now. If I had been there when I was supposed to be, she would not be under the care of doctors, hanging onto life. This is all my fault. Her mother and maybe even Reese are going to hate me now. They're going to kick me out on the streets and Alex is going to die and I'm going to lose my first love because of my own stupid actions and-

"Here, drink this." Startled, I look up to see the nurse offering me a mug of hot cocoa. "Thanks," I say, taking it from her and sipping it. The nurse introduces herself as Pamela, and says, "You think this is your fault, don't you?" "It was my fault," I say, taking another drink of the hot chocolate. "Why do you think that?" Pamela asks me. Quickly I explain the entire situation to her. She shakes her head and says, "In the end, every cut she made is her responsibility. Nobody had a gun to her head forcing her to cut. But she did. This is not your fault, it's hers."

I look at Pamela, shocked that she has such wisdom and knowledge about cutters. "How do you know that?" I ask, draining the remaining hot chocolate in my mug. She takes the mug from me and sets it on her desk before replying, "I had a sister who cut, and she died this same way. It took me a long time to get over it and eventually I just had to accept the fact that I was not to blame." I nod understandingly. "I had a sister who cut, too. Her name was Carrie and she also died like this." Pamela nods.

Suddenly, we're cut off in our discussion by the ER doors bursting open. Alex's mother and Reese come flying at us, questions bubbling from their mouths. I quickly calm them down, taking Reese on my lap. She's crying, but I think it's only because Alex's mom is crying. She doesn't understand. Pamela gestures Alex's mother up to the desk and she fills out all of Alex's information.

Her face is a pale gray mask of fear when she returns. We spend a few minutes discussing Alex's cutting, which apparently her mom didn't know about, before Pamela joins us to give news.

"Okay, guys, Alex is finally stable." My heart skips a beat, and my eyes fill with tears of joy. The hope that's bursting from within me is obliterated when Pamela says, "However, she's in the ICU and comatose. We're not sure when or if she's going to wake up."

AN: SORRY, SORRY!!! It'll get better, I promise.

All my love,

Em