THEA RUSHED FORWARD and collapsed on the floor next Orson's body.
"No, no, no," she muttered. "This can't be happening."
Should she call 911 first, or check for a pulse? Her mind was flooded with too many thoughts. Her fingers crept towards Orson's body, but she paused, she should call 911, and check for a pulse at the same time. Yes, that seemed like the most reasonable course of action.
Thea dug her fingers into her pocket but came empty handed. Where was her phone the one time she needed it! Why wasn't on her? Her blurry eyes tracked the bathroom floor and she saw the purple case on the white tiles by the door. She must have dropped it when she saw first saw Orson.
She tried pushing off the floor but couldn't get up. Her knees were too shaky. In a desperate move, she crawled across the floor keeping an eye on Orson. She dialed 911, putting her phone on speakerphone before crawling back towards him.
Her fingers shook as she pressed two fingers to his wrist. His arms were limp, and she couldn't feel a pulse. Tears rushed to her eyes and her head was pounding loudly. "No, you can't be fucking dying Orson."
"911 what is your emergency?"
"I have a 27-year-old male and he isn't—breathing," she choked out the last few words as another wave of tears made its way down her face.
The operator was calm on the other end, "Where are you located?"
Thea rattled off her address and the operator continued, "Have you checked his neck for a pulse? Sometimes, it is hard to feel a pulse on the wrist."
Thea shakingly moved her fingers to his neck, deep in his scratchy beard. Blood was rushing to her head, and she couldn't feel anything. Was he still breathing?
"Take a deep breath dear," the emergency operator's clear voice came through the room.
Thea did as she was commanded, and exhaled a gasp, "He's breathing," she said with relief.
"Good, the paramedics on their way, but I need you to assess if there are any other injuries that may need attention."
Thea's gaze scanned Orson's body, he seemed so pale. Her fingers brushed his hair, and a sticky substance came up to her fingers.
It was blood, she realized in horror.
Her gasp was loud enough that the operator caught it. "What is it?"
She didn't speak for a moment, merely tilted his head slightly. Underneath where his head was, her bathroom tiles were crimson.
Her voice shook, "He's bleeding from the back of his head."
"I need you to grab something, like a cloth, and push it against the wound," the operators voice echoed in the bathroom. "Don't tilt his head until the paramedics get there."
Well, it was too late about the moving his head thing. She'd already done that. Thea grabbed the white towel hanging on the metal rack. It didn't seem like the cleanest object, but it would serve its purpose. She gently pressed it against Orson's head, praying that the paramedics would get there soon.
She'd vowed to kill him earlier when she'd smelt the weed in her apartment, but he might have done the job himself tonight.
"Are you still there?"
Thea nodded, and then realized that the operator couldn't see her. "Yes," she croaked.
"Good, you're doing great. The paramedics are coming up. If you haven't opened the door yet, now would be a good time."
Thea glanced back at Orson, she didn't want to leave him alone on her bathroom floor, unconscious and bleeding.
As if reading her thoughts, the operator continued, "If you don't open the door, it will only take longer for the paramedics to help him."
Thea took a deep breath and pushed herself off the floor. Her legs were still shaking, and goosebumps were sprayed across her arms even when it was warm in the apartment. She clung to the wall and made her way to the front door. Just as she opened the door, she saw two paramedics rushing from the elevator.
"In here," she shouted.
They jogged towards her. "He's in the bathroom," she said, hugging herself as she led them to Orson.
They got to work right away, and the rest of the night was a blur. She remembered snippets, but they didn't connect. The paramedics asked if she knew if Orson had taken any other drugs. Thea responded that she wasn't sure. They put Orson on a stretcher. One of the paramedics asked if she had also been hurt. She remembered shaking her head.
She remembered blindly following them to the ambulance on the ground floor of her apartment. The paramedics asking if she was going to accompany them. Her hopping in the back with assistance from one of the paramedics, and then rushing to the hospital with the ambulance sirens keeping them company in the night.
⚽⚽⚽
Thea passed back and forth in the waiting room. She just couldn't sit still. They had taken Orson behind one of the curtains and ushered her to the corner where a few seats were set up. There were a few other people in the waiting room looking at her curiously, but they didn't say anything. Thea saw the worry and anxiety in their eyes for their loved ones, it was something that connected them.
A nurse stopped her midway through her next lap of the room. "Are you okay dear?"
Thea paused, she wasn't sure if the nurse was asking about her physical or mental state. Both were pretty haywire right now, but she nodded. The nurse didn't look satisfied, and she slowly ushered Thea towards one of the chairs, "Have a seat."
Thea did as she was told and the nurse pointed to her clothes, "Is that your blood?"
"What?" Thea reared her head back.
The nurse repeated her question, and Thea looked down at her once cream blouse. It was smeared with blood. That explained a few of the odd looks she had received from people around her.
"Oh, no," she shook her head, "No, its my friends, the paramedics took him behind the curtains."
The nurse nodded understandingly. "Do you want to head to the bathroom and freshen up? It's just around the corner."
Thea hesitated; she didn't want to get up until someone came to her with the news that Orson was okay. The nurse leaned in, "Please wash up, there are a few children who have been frightened by the sight of blood on your shirt."
She nodded absentmindedly and then stood up to go to the bathroom. She winced at the bright fluorescent lights. Glancing around the stalls, Thea's bladder suddenly felt full. She remembered that she had needed to use the washroom before finding Orson on the floor. In the midst of everything she'd forgotten about her own needs, solely focusing on Orson.
Thea finished her business and came up to the sink to wash her hands. Her brown eyes were bloodshot, and her curls had sprung loose from the ponytail. She looked frazzled. Scooping up some water, she washed her face, trying to make herself look more alive. Then, she took off her blouse, running in under the sink and tried scrubbing off the blood.
It didn't completely come off, but it looked pink, rather than the bright red it had been before. Thea buttoned up again and laughed as she took in her appearance once more. A few hours ago, she'd been laughing and sharing a warm meal with teammates, and now she was wearing a wet blouse with bloodstains.
She leaned against the wall, uncaring that it might be unsanitary. Her body was exhausted, and she didn't want to move. A thought flashed through her mind—she should call Rashad. He would want to know what happened with Orson. She could also yell at her brother for not being honest with her the night he had dropped off Orson.
This wasn't just a case of an injured soccer player who held a grudge—no this was much worse, and she was not prepared to deal with this. She already had too much on her plate.
Thea dialed her brother's number and his voicemail kicked in. He must have been sleeping still. She left a message asking him to call her back as soon as he could. She didn't share the details, as she found she had no strength for it. When her brother would call, she would fill him in.
Thea sighed as she exited the bathroom. Her mind was spinning in a thousand directions, but one voice pierced above the rest.
"...I did not fucking try and kill myself!"
Her feet were almost automatically moving and before she knew it, she was standing behind a set of cream curtains. Orson's agitated voice grew louder.
"Take your hands off me before I fucking sue this entire hospital!"
Thea pulled apart the curtain and came across an almost comical scene, that would have been funny at any moment except for this. A few nurses were trying to get Orson to lie on the bed, but he was resisting. A woman wearing glasses and in a white lab coat was in the corner watching the scene unfold and writing down notes, while her companion was wearing blue sterile gloves and holding a huge needle.
Orson's grey eyes were bloodshot as they met Thea., "Tell them I didn't try to kill myself. They don't believe me."
If she was being honest with herself, she didn't know if she could believe him herself. Her mind flashed back to seeing him on the bathroom floor barely breathing. She took a hesitate step closer to the bed but one of the nurses held out an arm blocking her, "Miss, it might be best to stay back. We don't want you to get hurt."
Orson flinched at the nurse's response, "I would never hurt Thea..."
He trailed off Thea raised an eyebrow at the scene around them. They didn't need to use words, he understood what she meant. She saw the flight leave from his body as he allowed the nurses to lower him back to the bed.
"We still need to complete a psyche evaluation Mr. Adler. The state in which you came in suggested suicidal ideation or substance use issues."
"I'll repeat it as many fucking times as you want, I did not try to kill myself. I only had a couple of drinks..."
"A couple of drinks?" Thea cut it him. "You were barely breathing when I found you!"
Orson turned his head away from Thea and remained silent. She was left studying the white bandage on his head.
"You nearly experienced fatal alcohol poisoning." The doctor who had been holding the needle explained. He had placed down his needle somewhere, as his hands were empty now. "If we had not treated you when you came in, it was very possible for you to be in a coma right now or dead."
Thea flinched at the word dead. That's exactly what she thought he'd been when she found him.
"Fine, get this psyche evaluation done with, so I can leave this fucking hospital."
One of the nurses looked like they were about to open their mouth and comment that Orson would not be leaving the hospital tonight, but Thea met his gaze and shook her head. If he brought it up now, Thea knew Orson would be more unlikely to cooperate. Thankfully, the nurse held in his tongue.
"Could I please get you all to step outside?" The psychiatrist with the bold glasses asked politely.
Thea followed out the group into the hallways. "How long will it take?" she asked one of the nurses as they began to turn their attention to another patient.
He shrugged his shoulders, "Usually twenty-minutes, give or take. You should head back to the sitting room."
Thea thanked him but remained standing outside the curtained wall. She could only hear feint murmurs but couldn't make the words out clearly. She wrapped her arms around her chest and leaned against the walls. Her body shivered, and she couldn't control herself.
She wasn't sure if it was seconds or minutes later, but the psychiatrist came out. Her notebook was filled with messy scrawls and Thea stopped herself from peaking. "Your diagnosis?"
The psychiatrist gave her a hesitant smile, "I don't think he meant to harm himself intentionally."
Thea let out a large exhale at the words, and her feet suddenly felt more grounded than earlier.
"But he could be developing serious addiction issues if he doesn't clean his act up. He needs support—"
"I try my best," Thea said tiredly, "I got rid of the alcohol from my house, and I don't know where it got the marijuana from."
"Professional help is what he needs," The psychiatrist said kindly. "You've been a good support, and I truly think things would be worse without you but when athletes have injuries like he's had, they no longer know who they are as a person."
She ripped up a piece of paper with a few names on it, "I tried giving him the list earlier of professionals he could talk to, but he shut it down. Maybe you'll have more luck than I will."
Thea took the list from her and stuffed it into her pocket. She thanked the psychiatrist before pulling the curtain apart again and sitting in the chair near Orson's bed. His eyes followed her movement, but he didn't say anything.
When she lifted her head to look at him, she couldn't help herself and burst into tears.
Orson looked alarmed at this. "Thea, what's wrong?"
"I thou--ght," she hiccupped loudly before repeating, "I thought-t you were dead."
His eyes softened slightly as he gave her a brief smile. One that didn't reach his eyes. "As you can see, still kicking around to wreak havoc in your life."
She didn't laugh at his joke. His body so still, blood dripping from his head flashed through her mind once again. She didn't know when, or if the image would ever go away. Orson reached out to grip Thea's arm, "I'm okay," he said pushing her fingers underneath his pulse, "Hear, you can feel my pulse."
Thea shook her head and wiped the remaining tears with the back of her free hand. "You're not Orson. I see the demons in your eyes. You need to get help. Promise me that you'll get help," she begged, digging up the list of names from her pocket and pressing it to his palm.
Orson didn't say anything, didn't make a move to take the paper from her and it fluttered to the hospital floor. He gripped Thea's arm harder, and as Thea watched the white sheet of paper against the grey hospital floors, she wanted to cry even more.
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So... you can say it has been a while. I've unfortunately haven't had much time to write but hopefully this long chapter makes up for it. Poor Thea, she's doing all she can but Orson doesn't seem willing to get help. Do you think anything will help change that?