Alex's eyes snapped open. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He had no clue what time it was but he knew that this couldn't wait until morning. He remembered Aolin telling him where she lived at the dinner table. He swung his legs out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans and a baggy hoodie. He shoved his phone in one pocket and his anxiety meds in the other, before grabbing his keys and leaving the house.
He flagged down a taxi and told the driver the address, climbing into the backseat. He tried ringing her again, but to no avail. He threw the driver a ten dollar note as he scrambled from the car. She'd told him it was the second floor apartment, and he flew up the stairs. His heart almost stopped as he saw the eviction notice. He pounded on the door. "Aolin!" He yelled. He couldn't even hear anything from within the apartment. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He took a step back and slammed his foot into the door, swinging it open. He ran in.
First thing he saw was her on the floor.
Next thing he noticed was the blood on her arms. "AOLIN!" He yelled falling to his knees beside her. He could feel the hysteria rising in his chest as he pulled out his phone, dialing 911.
911, what's your emergency?
He swallowed. "My girlfriend is bleeding out, there are cuts on her arms and there's blood everywhere."
Was she attacked? Is there anyone else in the apartment, sir?
"No, no, I don't think so, the door was locked, I had to kick it in to get in."
What's your name?
"Alex."
Okay, Alex, there's an ambulance on the way. I want you to put me on the speaker, okay?
"Yeah, okay."
Now, have you got something you can use to put pressure on the cuts?
Instinct kicked in and he pulled off his hoodie and then his shirt, finding the blood covered knife and tearing it in two.
"Yeah."
Put as much pressure as you can on the cuts, and hold it until the paramedics come. Are you okay, Alex?
He was hyperventilating slightly, trying to regulate his breathing.
"Yeah."
Okay, the paramedics are almost there. Alex, I want you to try and put pressure on both arms with one hand, and check for a pulse with the other.
He swallowed, and pulled one arm over her body, pressing down on both of them with his left hand, putting his right to her neck. He relaxed as he felt a pulse beating. It was weak, but there.
"Yeah, she has a pulse."
Okay, Alex. The paramedics will be there in a minute or two. Keep putting pressure on the wounds, okay? I'm going to hang up.
"Thank you."
The paramedics rushed in barely a minute later. One took over Alex's role of pressure, and Alex sat back, trying to calm his breathing down. They were putting her onto a board and getting ready to move her, still putting pressure on the wounds. He was trying to hide his hyperventilating, but was failing. They started moving her downstairs, and Alex pulled on his hoodie, following them. Her blood was all over his hands.
One of the paramedics looked at him as they reached the ambulance. "Are you one of her friends?" He asked. Alex shook his head, then nodded. "I'm her boyfriend." The paramedic took one look at him, taking in how he was struggling for breath, and let him in. "Your name is Alex, right?" He nodded. "Okay Alex, deep breaths, in through your nose, out through your mouth. Have you had a panic attack before?" He asked, still keeping pressure on her wounds. He nodded. "Regularly." He managed to get out. The paramedic frowned. "Panic disorder?" Alex nodded, vaguely remembering the therapist telling him that. "Okay, Alex. Just keep taking deep breaths. She's in safe hands. We can look after her. You did the right thing, okay? This isn't your fault." Alex allowed himself to lean forward and put his head between his knees, taking deep breaths. After a while, his breathing became even again. "Good. Both of you are going to be okay, alright?" He nodded.
They went into the emergency room. The paramedic mentioned something to one of the nurses, and they came over and let him to a cubicle. "Frank told me you have panic disorder. We're just going to look you over, okay? Make sure nothing else is wrong."
The nurse examined him. She frowned, folding her arms. "Are you unwell, Alex?" He stared at the floor. "Because you're very pale, and it looks like you haven't slept in about a week." He looked up at her. "Say there's this guy who's an addict. Anxiety medication and sleeping pills. He accidentally took too many pills a day or two ago, but threw them all up. He wants to get clean, but doesn't want his girlfriend finding out about his addiction because she's got a lot of problems as well. What would you advise him?" She frowned, folding her arms. "Would this person like me to keep this entirely confidential and strictly between us?" He nodded.
"Well, the overdose took it's toll on his body, but he'll be fine in a day or two as long as he takes it easy. I'd tell him that a support group would be a good idea. And seeing as this person also has panic disorder, I'd recommend going back to his therapist. But as this is off the record, this is just advice, and I can't refer you." He nodded. "Can I see her now?" The nurse nodded. "I'll go see if she's out of surgery."
As soon as she was, he went to her room and took her hand. He wasn't tired any more. He'd found a few booklets on different things. One was on addiction, but he had a few others to make it look like he had just picked up random ones to read. He kept a hold on her hand as he read, waiting for her to wake up.
