Chapter 23
Killian
“Harvey? I’m home.” I let myself in with the key he’d given me, disturbed by the eerie silence in the house. Maybe he’d gone out, but a feeling of something akin to dread stirred inside me.
Something about our conversation yesterday had niggled at me all night. He wasn’t himself, and despite Sully’s insistence that I stay, I made an excuse and left on the first train this morning.
In typical fashion, I’d forgotten to put my phone on charge, and by the time it had some juice, the signal was so bad I couldn’t even make a call.
I’d run from the station straight to his house. His coat and shoes were still in the hallway, his keys still on the table. It wasn’t right.
I called out again. Still nothing.
I took the stairs two at a time. His bedroom door was open, bed unmade. Harvey always made his bed.
But what was that smell? I pushed open the bathroom door, met by the sight of Harvey lying in a pool of deep red blood.
Jesus fucking Christ. I knew something was wrong; I just didn’t think he’d try this.
I dropped to my knees, not knowing what to do, but holding him, maybe for the last time, overrode any thought I had.
I cradled his lifeless body in my arms, the steady drip of blood staining the floor beneath us. I should have known better, but the days and nights we’d spent together, he’d seemed to get better. How wrong had I been?
Only now, as I stared at his pale face, did I realise just how much he’d been holding back.
“Harvey, don’t you dare die on me.”
He’d promised me he’d stopped, and that he hadn’t cut since we first met, but looking at the fresh cuts and scars on his arms and legs, how much of that was true?
I kissed his cold, blue lips and tried to breathe life into him, unsure whether it was a futile attempt.
I fucking loved the bones of him, although I’d never told him. A realisation I’d only recently come to, and if he died, what point would there be in living? My life would be empty without him. Nothing would ever be the same.
I sat on the floor and rocked him back and forth. Tears streaming down my face.
I wouldn’t lose him this way. I had to do something. His pulse fluttered weakly at his neck.
Yes, there was life there.
I stripped off my shirt, then my vest, and wrapped them as tightly as I could around the wounds on his wrists, hoping it was enough to stem the flow.
Where was my fucking phone?
I scrambled around and found it near the door where I’d dropped it. The sight of Harvey lying on the tiled bathroom floor had been a shock. Thankfully, it was intact.
I dialled, relieved when the call was answered right away.
“What’s your emergency?”
“Ambulance and hurry. His pulse is weak. I’m not sure how long he’s got.”
“Tell me what’s happened, sir.”
“He’s cut himself. There’s so much blood.”
I could feel it seeping into my jeans, but I didn’t care.
“I’ve dispatched a unit to your location. Can you stem the flow?”
“I’m trying, but there’s just so fucking much of it.”
“How long has he been like this?”
“I don’t know. I came home and found him like this. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions. A unit is nearby. I’ll stay with you until they get there, okay? Stay with me. Can our unit get access? Is there a door open?”
Had I closed the front door? I couldn’t remember. “I’ll check.”
Reluctant to leave him, I dashed downstairs and opened the front door, leaving it on the latch. I could hear the faint sound of sirens and hoped to God they were heading my way.
I ran back upstairs and resumed my place at his side, his frigid hand in mine. He looked as if he was sleeping; the furrows between his brow smoothed out. I picked up a piece of glass from the floor and held it to his lips, relieved when the ghost of his breath appeared.
He wasn’t gone yet.
The clatter of boots on the stairs told me the paramedics had arrived. A man and a woman clad in green carrying cases entered the small bathroom.
“Sir, we need you to let him go so we can work on him.”
The man nodded to the woman, and between them, they took Harvey from my blood-soaked arms.
“This way, sir,” she said and led me to Harvey’s bedroom. “What’s his name and how long has he been here?”
“Harvey Barton, and I don’t know. I came home to find him like that. Is he going to die? Fuck.”
I banged my head with my hands.
“What’s your name?” Her voice was gentle, but I guessed she was used to this kind of thing.
“It’s Killian. He’s my…”
What was he exactly? Not really my boyfriend. We’d never put a label on our relationship. We’d fallen into a comfortable existence.
“Has he tried to do this before?”
“He used to self-harm. He’d stopped. He told me he’d stopped.”
“Sometimes they hide the truth. Are you okay to stay here while I help my colleague?”
I nodded, unsure of what to do. This wasn’t my home, although I’d been spending more time here over the past few weeks.
Weeks, not months. That was as long as we’d known each other, but Harvey and I, we were destined, weren’t we? I’d found a kindred spirit in Harvey. We’d told each other things we’d told no one else. We’d bonded.
Harvey was my person. If only I hadn’t been so dismissive yesterday, this might have never happened, but I’d been too wound up in my own life to consider what it was doing to Harvey.
I knew his issues with abandonment, and I’d only fuelled them. We’d had a great night out, then the best sex I’d had in ages. Seeing him fall apart had been the highlight of the night, knowing I’d been the one to do that to him.
And then I’d fucked off and left him alone. I saw he was upset, but I’d been a fucking arsehole as usual and not taken his feelings into consideration.
It’d be my fault if he died.
If he died.
The notion sat heavily with me, and for the first time in an age, I cried. The last time was when I’d lost Cormac and, fuck me, if that hadn’t been my fault, too.
I might as well label myself a murderer.
“Killian?”
I looked up and swiped at my eyes. “Is he going to be okay?”
“We think so. We’ve bandaged him as much as we can. My colleague is going to fetch the stretcher, then we’ll be taking him to the hospital. Do you want to come with us?”
“I’ll get a taxi.” Riding with him in the ambulance, seeing him like that. I couldn’t do it.
“Okay. We’ll see you there.”
I stood by, listening to them as they manoeuvred him onto the stretcher and down the stairs. There wasn’t much room in the bathroom, and it would have been a squeeze with three of them in there. I followed them to the front door and watched as they loaded him into the ambulance.
He still looked deathly pale, accentuating the dark circles beneath his eyes, so vulnerable covered in a blanket. I fought the urge to run to him.
Curtains twitched as the ambulance drove away, but no one appeared to ask what had happened. They’d speculate and come up with all the wrong reasons.
I went back inside and closed the door. The smell of blood permeated every fibre and pore. I went up to the bathroom and cleaned up the rubbish the paramedics had left. Discarded bloody paper towels, empty rolls of tape. The floor was a mess of bloody footprints and glass. Who’d tidy that up?
It’d be down to me since Harvey had no one else.
I went downstairs and found a black bag, a mop, and a bucket. I cleared away all the rubbish and mopped down the floor with hot bleach water. It looked better than when I’d arrived, but I couldn’t stop picturing Harvey lying there, his life slowly leaching from him.
How had we got here? How had this happened?
I’d missed all the signs, every fucking one, and because of that, I might have lost him completely.
The blast from my phone startled me. I picked it up and answered.
“Killian. Where are you? I’ve got some great news.”
It was my new manager, Duncan.
“Hey, look. I’m gonna need a couple of days. Harvey, my erm, friend has had an accident, and I need to stay here and look after him. I’ll keep you updated. I know we’re in talks, but this can’t be helped.”
“God, no. Stay there. I’ll sort what I can from this end. Sully won’t mind.”
“Thanks, Duncan. I know it’s not a great start, but...”
“Say no more. You take care now.”
I gazed at the bed. The bedclothes were rumpled, his clothes chucked in a corner.
This wasn’t him. He was meticulous in his housekeeping.
That first night I’d come to dinner, he hadn’t been satisfied until we’d tidied everything away.
For the room to look this way, his mind must have been elsewhere, and I could only guess where.
I checked the time. It had been an hour since they’d left. How long had I been here? I unpacked the bag I’d brought with me and changed my clothes. I couldn’t go to the hospital covered in blood.
I took one last look around the bathroom and closed the door, then gathered my bag and closed the front door behind me. Why didn’t I feel anything but numb?
The hospital wasn’t far away, and by the time I got there, it was heaving with people. I’d spent enough time in A&E to spot those who were genuine and those just there to keep out of the cold.
I headed to the reception desk and waited my turn.
“Can I help you?”
“Yeah, a friend of mine was brought in by ambulance.”
“What’s his name?” She tapped on her keyboard, not meeting my gaze once.
“Harvey. Harvey Barton.” I fidgeted with my bag and glanced around me. I hated these places.
“Are you his next of kin?”
“No, he doesn’t have one.” Or at least I didn’t think he had.
“And you are?”
What to say? What exactly was I to him? “Boyfriend, I guess.”
“You either are, or you aren’t.”
Rude much? In her defence, I could have been anyone.
“I’m his boyfriend.”
“Take a seat, and someone will be through to let you know how he’s doing.”
“Can’t I sit with him?” I wouldn’t settle until I knew he was okay.
“I’m afraid not. Doctors are still assessing him. When he’s stabilised…”
I sat back down and waited. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes into hours.
Patients came and went, and still, I sat waiting for anyone to tell me how he was doing.
How could I leave without an answer? I grabbed coffee from a subpar vending machine and a pack of biscuits that had probably been there as long as the machine had.
I was jostled and spat at until, finally, three hours later, I spotted the paramedic I’d spoken to at the house.
“Excuse me.” I waved. “Excuse me. I’m waiting to see how my friend is. Do you know anything?”
“Oh, hi. I understand he was transferred to another hospital about an hour ago.”
“What the fuck? I was told to wait here.”
I closed my eyes, rage building inside me. But why would they tell me? We weren’t related.
“I’m so sorry. If you ask at the desk they can give you the details. Maybe you could go there, and they could give you more.”
Putting my anger aside, I asked the only question that mattered to me. “Was he awake? Did he say anything?”
“I don’t know, but he was out of immediate danger. He’d lost a lot of blood.”
I remembered. I’d sat in it until they’d arrived and only remembered to change my clothes before coming here.
What should I do now? I was exhausted and hungry, but the paramedic was still talking to me.
“Sorry, I just don’t know what to do. I guess I’ll go find him. Thank you for everything you did.”
She touched my arm and smiled. “I hope you find him and he’s okay. I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help.”
I watched her leave and glared at the woman behind the desk. She could have fucking told me, and I had it in my head to o give her a piece of my mind, but what good would that do?
Harvey had gone, and now I needed to find him.