Chapter 39 - Charlie
Sleeping at Last - Saturn ?
I 'm nervous. Shit. Why am I nervous? This man has licked parts of my body that don't see daylight and I still have clammy hands from the idea of seeing him after everything that went down between us.
Pulling into the car park of the bar I can see all of the lights are off and everything looks closed up. It's still odd that he didn't let Mel or someone else open up these past few days but then again, I'm not exactly sure how he would have reacted given everything that happened. I just didn’t expect it to be like this.
Turning my car off, I sit there for a moment, staring at the main doors expecting him to come out. Expecting him to just appear with a big smile on his face telling me it was all some big misunderstanding.
But nothing happens.
No one comes.
And I'm left alone again.
The other half to my heart inside the building in front of me … but after three days of no contact, I can tell he doesn't want me and I need to remember that.
Checking my phone once again just in case he's messaged while I was driving, it remains hauntingly blank. No notifications. Nothing. I guess the reality is the sooner we talk the sooner I can start to move on, so with purposeful actions, I get out of my car, not bothering to grab my coat from the back seat. Crossing the empty car park I head toward the main door, where a crude piece of paper is attached to the front.
Is that blood?
Something’s not right. I can excuse a lot of things as me trying to read into them, but this note? Porter didn't need to renovate. There was no plan in place for him to close the bar. Sure, it was a convenient excuse but … Mel said she heard him banging around. No doubt taking out his frustrations on something … but what if we got it all wrong? What if there was another reason he stayed away?
Pushing the door open, it takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the lighting, or lack thereof. Moving toward the office. Something still doesn’t sit right.
The fingerprint smudge on that note and now the metallic tang in the air. It's only when I take a few more steps into the room that I see a man not moving, sitting on a chair in the middle of the dance floor. A few more steps and the mangled shape of his legs become clearer. One severely more damaged than the other.
Gasping from the sight, I can't tell who it is. The lighting is almost non-existent in this spot but I can see that the man is passed out, his head hanging low on his chest. It takes a few seconds for everything to melt away and my training kicks in.
This man needs help.
Has Porter done this?
Rushing, I kneel before him, dropping my car keys and phone on the floor next to us. Quick assessment. Definitely status two, on the brink of status one if he doesn't get medical help soon. How long has he been like this? It looks like he's covered in fresh and old wounds that have been haphazardly tended to. Reaching for the hand closest to me which is tied to the armrest of the chair, I can see he’s not in good shape with a knife sticking out of the thigh of his mangled leg … and then my world stops. Time ceases to move as I make out bloody knuckles with the letters LILA tattooed on them.
This isn't just any man.
This is Porter.
My Pasha.
“No, no, no, no, no.”
I say in rapid succession. The words come out without restraint as I feel for his pulse. “Please be alive, baby. Please .”
We’re shrouded in light as a single overhead bulb turns on, but I barely have time to take note of the darkness that now surrounds us. I can’t see anything past the ring of light we’re now in. A hand comes out of the shadows, yanking Porter's head back by the scruff of his hair. Another disembodied arm comes out of the dark, the faint drag of bright orange disappearing as it flashes past my head.
Stumbling back from the shock of the arms, I can see a blue cap exposed out of the end of the fist now.
Is that an EpiPen sticking into Porter’s chest?
“No, no, no, no.”
The words repeat over and over, spilling from my mouth without reason, as a man with grown out, bleach blond hair and a Cheshire cat grin steps into the light.
Tristan.
He lets go of the EpiPen still hanging from Porter's chest as it dangles loosely, all of the adrenaline now pumping around Porter's body. It feels like forever has passed as I flick my gaze between Porter and Tristen. Needing to keep eyes on both of them for different reasons. Suddenly, Porter jerks in his seat, his bound limbs straining for a moment before he takes large gasps of air, rapidly scanning all around us, trying to take everything in as he searches the room, stopping when he sees me sitting on the floor in front of him.
“Baby?” he murmurs.
His eyes soften in the light before the glint of metal diverts my gaze and desperation creeps in.
Tristan holds a knife to Porter's wrist, cutting the cable ties keeping it in place. I follow the jagged movements as Porter tries and fails to move his free arm. The low chuckle from Tristan cuts through the still air as he looks down at Porter, unable to hide the satisfaction sitting proudly on his face.
“Just imagine all of the things I'm going to do to her as you bleed out like the other one did.” He whispers into Porter's ear as he stabs the tip of the knife into his wrist, dragging it up the inside of his arm to his elbow.
A roar erupts from Porter, a last stand to try and fight back. To keep me safe. But I can barely make out the words as a booming noise explodes from outside.
It’s like a hurricane.
The blood rushes to my ears as the faint sound of Porter screaming run to me barely registers. Tristan's panicked face searches the space around us as the sound grows louder but I don't have time to care about what is happening outside. This is my opportunity to fight back, the gods have given me a distraction and I will use it to my advantage.
Scrambling to my feet I can see the pulse of blood spurting out of his arm.
His artery.
“No, no, no, no.”
I breathe the words, knowing I have to stop this somehow. Taking note of Tristan standing several feet from us. He's taken a chair and is struggling to look out of one of the high windows, trying to make sense of the sudden storm outside no doubt. The wind howls stronger and the main door starts to rattle but it is all background noise to me.
My priority is Porter. Not the raging storm outside, not Tristan panicking by the window.
Porter.
Wasting no time, I begin to dig my fingers into his arm, looking for the soft pulse of blood from his severed artery.
I need to find it.
I have to find it.
“No, no, no. Porter, don't you dare fucking die on me,” I cry out to no one.
Please gods, if you're there.
Help me some more.
I love him.
I can't find it, fuck, I can't find it. No, no, no, I have to find it. It's been maybe ten seconds and Porter's head flops back, his eyes content as he takes me in. The wind is thrashing outside, glasses rattle as the main door swings violently and amongst it all, he stares at me. I take a second to breathe and collect my emotions as I try to get a hold of the situation. Pulling at his belt, I struggle to get it loose because my hands are too slippery.
I can't pull it free.
“Please, Pasha. Don't leave me. I need you,” I sob, feeling the tears run down my face.
My finger drags past the severed artery, grazing the edge of it as I focus on trying to clamp it with my fingers. The sweet wave of relief flooding my system when I have it pinched between my fingers.
I can do this. I can save him.
Looking to him, I try to find comfort in this moment of chaos. Unable to hear the words as he mouths what I can only hope is him saying, I love you .
Tears continue to stream down my face as the wind whips around us despite being inside.
Scanning the room, I see Tristan standing several metres away looking between us and the door, his face shrouded in fear but I won't waste a second more than I need to trying to figure out what he’s panicked about. Every last moment I have will be spent trying to save the man I love.
Faint screams come from Tristan's direction. A determined cry as he sprints towards us. Throwing all caution to the wind as I cover as much of Porter’s body as I can but in doing so, my hand slips from his arm. The artery I had found only moments before slipping away from me.
I can’t help the sob of despair that escapes, the instant dread that settles deep in my stomach.
Awkwardly, I fling myself on Porter's lap, bringing his head to mine as I say over and over, “Stay alive for me, don't give up, please stay alive for me.”
Despite the booming whupwhupwhupwhup sound, I need to say the words for both of us as I wait for Tristan's attack.
Holding Porter fiercely, I don't let go when nothing happens. Wasting precious seconds for the imminent attack that never comes. Lifting my brow from where it is nestled into his neck, I see Tristan spread out on the floor, half of his head missing as Dimi stands over him unloading his clip. Bullet after bullet tearing through flesh and bone until he is nothing more than a meat sack waiting to decompose.
My eyes lock with Dimi’s and I know that he will watch over me as I scramble off Porter's lap, resuming my search for his artery. His eyelids hang heavy, the amount of blood he’s lost evident as he struggles to stay awake.
“Please.” I can't help but beg. “Please don't leave me.”
The tears fall from my face, dropping onto his hand as I try to stop the bleeding. Staring into his eyes as they slowly shut and I can't help but close mine at the same time. If I can't see him fading from me then it's not real.
It can't be real.
“Thirty seconds,” Dimi yells into my ear and I still don't open my eyes.
Please, gods.
Lila.
Help me.
Suddenly, the soft pulse of flowing blood skims my fingertips and I feel the sinewed texture I’m looking for.
I found it .
Thank you gods for listening.
Thank you Lila, for keeping him with me. Pinching it closed, I remain focused on my goal of keeping his artery secure as I open my eyes to chaos.
Porter is slumped in the chair while Dimi tries to cut away his bindings. A swarm of people surround us. Someone puts a headset over my ears, drowning out the all consuming whupwhupwhup sound. I can hear people talking clearly through the headset speakers, a microphone pressed in close to my mouth.
“I need you to move your hand.”
A stern voice shouts as someone tries to pull my arm away and I unleash, screaming to everyone, I've clamped his artery. If anyone tries to touch me I will kill them .
I feel feral in my protection of him but until we're in a hospital or there is a surgeon ready to take over, I will not be moving from this position.
The tension in the room is palpable as they move us onto a waiting gurney and we are transported outside when the source of the noise, a medevac helicopter hovers precariously in the car park. Trust Dimi to just have something ridiculous like a helicopter available to him. I barely register the flight to the hospital as I'm secured on top of Porter, straddling him as I focus on keeping my fingers pinched. Keeping the life of my other half stable as the medical team works around us.