A Little Longer
Prologue
It’s my fault. Every choice, every action, everything that led us to this moment is my burden to bear.
People are pushing against me, their elbows digging into whatever they can, to gain a better viewpoint of the body lying on the floor, the face recognizable, yet so unfamiliar at the same time.
My heart is hammering in my chest, screaming at me to move, to throw myself on the floor and cling to them, never to let go.
To protect them, always. The crowd’s unforgiving pushing and shoving draws me closer and closer, forcing me to acknowledge the cold, lifeless reality awaiting.
Tears freefall as my voice escapes me. I can’t look away, I can’t waste a single second of looking at my love; the hushed whispers all around confirm that this could be the last time I’ll be able to.
“...not breathing.”
“...unresponsive.”
Before my mind has a chance to catch up, I crash to the floor as my hands reach out to press down on the cold chest in front of me.
Push, push, push… Don’t leave me… Push, push, push… Just wake up… Push, push, push… I fucking love you, don’t do this to me… Push, push, push… I’m sorry…Push, pu–
“How long have compressions been going?” A deep voice breaks through the buzz of whispering onlookers.
“I don’t know, we’ve tried to get him to stop, but he won’t. He just keeps going.”
Push, push, push, push–
“Ok, everyone, make some space, please.”
Two thick calloused fingers feel for a pulse, but I don’t stop. This is not how it ends.
“Hey, hey, my name is Nick, and this is my colleague, Jamie,” A gentle voice says from beside me, but I can't look. I have to keep going. Push, push– “It’s time to stop, buddy.” The gentle timbre of his voice is an ugly contrast to the words he speaks.
“Come on, now.” I can feel pressure wrap around my upper arm; it grows tighter and tighter as my compressions get harder and harder.
I can help, this isn’t it. I just need a few more minutes– “It’s time to stop,” the voice repeats, sterner this time.
“I c-can’t,” I force out, the saltiness of my tears brings my other senses back into focus.
Bright overhead lights now fill the club, replacing the strobes.
The sickly sweet smell of vomit fills my nostrils, coming from the puddle I’m kneeling in.
Then there’s silence. The only sound in the entire club is coming from me as I pant, desperately trying to push life back into the body below.
“You’ve done your best, let us take it from here.” I know there’s truth in his words; his voice is reassuring and kind, as are his eyes as they meet mine. Nodding once, I slide my hands away, releasing my grip on my entire world.