love is always love - lgbtqa+

41 || the tide

"Tristan?" Aunt Lila gasps, moving away from the door.

My jaw drops. "Lila, it's West's mom." I can't believe it, it's Mrs. Wu, standing right there on our doorstep, but something is horribly, horribly, wrong. Her legs are bloody and seem to have pieces of glass and other things stuck in them. Her clothes are rumpled and bloody as well. I quickly look away at the sight. "Seb, Uncle Seb! Please help!"

Hearing his chair scooch back across our floor as he rushes over is one that reminds me too much of the screech of a car tire. Seeing Mrs. Wu bloody with shards of glass lodged in her knees and shins reminds me too much of Tiana. I close my eyes, remembering what my therapist said. In, out; let the air really soak into your lungs and hold it there for a few seconds. Slow inhale, slower inhale. I hear Uncle Seb's footsteps stop in the middle of the hallway, and I decide to pry open my eyes and force myself to look, all the while squeezing my stress ball like crazy.

West's mom stares up at all of us, a wild look in her eyes as she clasps her hands together. "Please," she cries, "help me."

Lila rubs her on the shoulder, and I know just how gentle and soothing her touch is. "Come inside, please, and tell us what happened."

Mrs. Wu shakes her head as she lets Aunt Lila drag her through the door. She shouts a string of sentences, some of them incoherent or broken. "My son! West! He's still in the house... Joseph left about five minutes ago... I would've called the police but he broke all our phones!"

"West? Is he okay?" I roll up to her, panicked. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no. Memories of his swollen cheek and his nervous breakdown in my living room start crashing down, then ones of him fainting during soccer practice or when he fell asleep on my carpet. West, please...

"I don't know... he got hit so many times... and there was so much blood," she sobbed. "I couldn't do anything. I'm a horrible parent."

"Hit...? Blood...?" Without a second's hesitation, I wheel off the ramp of my front door and over to West's house.

"Tristan!" Lila calls.

I ignore her and keep going.

His front door is open, and I notice his neon green soccer bag lying on his front yard. I wheel as far as I can until I reach his doorstep, cursing myself for being handicapped. "Damn it... West."

I raise myself up by putting all my weight onto my hands and then let go and push my wheelchair away from underneath me. My casts are heavy, so I naturally slide down. Grunting, I turn and place my legs so they're facing down on the cement, and use all of my arm strength to try and drag myself up the stairs. Scraping them with so much force hurts, but that's not important right now.

"Tristan!" I look over my shoulder to see Seb sprint over towards my side. "Let me help you, okay? You have to calm down, we can't help if we're unable to help ourselves."

I nod begrudgingly, sticking my hands out like a petulant child. He bends down to wrap his arms around my torso and lifts me onto the top of the stairs. After putting me down with a grunt, Seb places my wheelchair right next to me. I stick out my arms again and he does the same thing, except this time, he plops me down into my wheelchair. It's a whole process, and although it's one I've had to do many times, it's still just as annoying and embarrassing.

"Thanks, Seb," I say, trying to get over my stupid ego. I can ask for help. It doesn't make me weak. I repeat my therapist's words like a mantra until I can feel my cheeks stop burning and my head stop aching. Thank you, Mrs. Lee.

"Of course, kiddo. Do you want me to push you?"

"No, it's alright. Let's just see West..."

He nods and follows me as I wheel closer. Now that I'm right in front of the door, I can see that it's not only open, but entirely off of its frame. Worry and panic shoots down my body and so many thoughts start firing off in my mind. I spin my wheels so fast that they screech in protest, and the noise sounds like car tires, but I don't care. I can't let that get to me. I'm trembling and images of that day and that car overwhelm my senses and as I wheel through the hallway and glance around, I ignore the tears in my eyes and the heartbeat in my ears once I spot West, because when I see him, everything stops.

West.

He's lying on the ground. There seems to be shards of what looks like glass and ceramic bowls and plates around him. There is blood on his face. There is blood staining his clothes and his skin and the floor. The shards surrounding him are also sticking out of him. I blink, and it's like I'm in a different place and time. The thoughts keep coming, the memories replay over and over and over again. I close my eyes but it doesn't make them go away. There's Tiana, with glass sticking out of her head and shoulder; with blood streaking her face, which is wrinkled with terror and pain; with her blonde hair becoming highlighted with crimson. 

Blood, glass. More blood. More glass. The screech of a tire. The splintering of metal. The smell of metal. The taste of metal. I can't feel my legs. I can't feel my legs. 

The tide of emotion and remembrances I'd just been running away from finally comes crashing down, and I find that I can't breathe. I can't move, my legs hurt. Why do they hurt so much? I feel numb and cold. My legs...

A hand touches my shoulder and I jump from the sudden contact. It has to be the paramedic that's going to drag me out of the car. "Please," I sob, "help my sister, she's in the seat next to mine."

The hand tightens its grip and shakes me furiously. "Tristan. Tristan! You're having a flashback. Please, know you're safe. Aunt Lila is going to come and get you, I'm going to call the police and the ambulance. I think West is still breathing! Hang in there, kid. Hang in there." The person stops talking and I hear their footsteps getting further away.

Groaning, I shake my head, what is the voice talking about? "Just help my sister!" I scream, trying to move. Why do my legs feel so heavy? I squeeze my eyes close tighter, trying to breathe.

In, out. In, out.

Please...

Tiana.