Last Night

Part 15

"I should. I should do it." I whispered to myself, trying to encourage my fingers to go for it.

Something slammed against my front door and made me jump. I dropped my phone and ran to see if she'd lost her grip or fallen. With a quick tug, I threw open the door.

"Is everything okay?" My eyes widened and mouth hung open, before I started choking on the distinct smell of blood. "Ian! Oh shit! Are you okay?"

He'd collapsed on the floor a foot away from my door and had his jacket tied tightly around his waist, but it was starting to darken with a red stain, blood.

I rushed to him and helped pull him up, which was a struggle because he was mostly deadweight now. We took a couple steps towards my door as I spoke. "Here, let's get you inside."

"No," he choked out between coughing. He nodded up the stairs or maybe his head was just bouncing around uncontrollably. "Mine."

"What happened? Did you get mugged?" I asked, before taking a deep breath and bracing myself with the banister so I could more or less pull us upstairs.

He clutched his stomach and didn't say anything as we continued to his door. Once we reached it, his hand patted around, groping for his keys. He winced and tucked his other hand in tighter to his stomach.

"Let me help. Where are they?" I looked up at him, but his eyes were closed and he didn't say anything. He wasn't going to be much help. He was getting paler by the second and more unsteady. My hand gently patted each of his pants pockets, looking for the keys, but nothing was there except for a wallet. I glanced down at the jacket wound around him. I tried to get a hand in the pocket there, but Ian jerked away and fell into the door.

"I'm sorry." I said, holding my hands up in surrender. I must have irritated the wound. "We'll just have to head back to mine then since we can't get in."

His response was one swift slam of his hand against the door, which knocked it open. He began falling inside, but I rushed in and caught him. It wasn't the most graceful catch as he grunted afterwards. It must have hurt. But it couldn't have been worse than him hitting that hard floor. That felt like concrete. I would know.

"Fridge." He mumbled as he leaned towards the kitchen.

"Okay, okay. Let's set you down first." I redirected him to the bedroom. Thank goodness for matching layouts. I flipped the switch, but nothing happened. My exasperation was audible. There was a bit of sunlight peeking around the curtains that allowed me to see my way to his bed. "Easy now. Where's the first aid kit?"

He pulled himself up onto the bed and laid back. "Fridge."

My brows scrunched together. Was he delirious? Why would he keep a kit like that in the... "Oh."

I jumped back and braced against the wall. "Just a minute. I'll get it for you."

With that I sprinted from the room, hoping I didn't trip over anything since the lights were out. When I reached the kitchen, I flipped the light on and my eyes burned, but I could finally see well. The fridge was right there and I pulled open the door to find only three bags of blood and nothing else.

"I hope this works." I said as I gingerly picked up all three bags. I felt a bubble travel down my throat into my stomach and then back up. "Don't think about it. He needs this."

My stomach was still queasy when I hurried back into the dark bedroom. "Here, Ian."

He didn't say anything intelligible. It all sounded like mumbled groans to me so I stepped closer to the bed. After a few more blinks, I could start to see his outline on the bed and noticed his head was laid all the way back. He'd been so pale and weak and covered in so much blood.