CHAPTER 47 #2
“Make it stop,” I whisper as more tears begin to spill down my face. “Just… fucking make it stop. Please. Please. Please.” I sink my fingers into my hair and cradle my head. “I… I can’t do this anymore.” I let the tears drip from my chin to the floor.
I’m done. Done. I just can’t fucking take it anymore.
Shouting to the ceiling, I ask, “Why the fuck is this happening to me? Answer me that! What the fuck did I do to deserve this, huh? Haven’t I suffered enough?
What the fuck do you want from me?” I beg with everything that I am for some fucking mercy, for some fucking help, for some one up there to see me, fucking see me, and give me some goddamn mercy for once from this fucking endless torture.
Because I can’t get her out of my head, and I don’t want to. But thoughts of her are literally killing me.
When no response comes, no goddamn sign, I search out the pills, crawl to them until I’m able to find a bottle on the floor.
I don’t give a fuck what pills they are as long as they make it stop.
It’s harder than it should be to open the lid.
When I do, I tip the bottle up and take a few and swallow them dry.
Seeing as this is more pain than I’ve ever experienced before, I don’t wait for those to work their magic.
I take a few more to make sure I’ll have enough in my system to quiet the raging storm in my mind.
I sit against my bed and cover my eyes with my hands as I wait for them to take effect. The only sound I hear is my heart gonging a deafening and ominous toll inside my head. I breathe heavily through the agony until it begins to quiet.
A door slams.
“Finn?” Mateo’s voice is shrill and loud as fuck. He knocks on my door. “Finn!”
“What?”
“Everyone’s been calling and says you’re not picking up your phone.”
His voice comes again sometime later, and it’s echoey. “Finn.”
“What?”
“Did you hear me?”
I clear the lump in my throat. “Yeah.”
“Can I come in?”
I’m not sure how much time passes, but he shouts my name again and again.
It’s so loud. I can’t take it. “P-p-please stop.” But I don’t say it loud enough for him to hear, because words are fucking hard to come by now.
The door opens. Mateo mutters, “What the hell? What did you do?”
I pry my hands away to see him kneeling in front of me. He grabs my shoulders and turns me so I’m looking him in the eye. He slaps my cheek lightly, “Hey, hey, look at me. What’s going on?”
I grab his arm, and my hand leaves a bloody print on his sleeve.
“Lily…” I rasp, my voice is hoarse, hardly audible. “It’s… Lily .”
Mateo looks at me, frowning, his eyes darting around the wreckage and madness that is my bedroom. He scans the walls, and his eyes widen. “The girl?”
I nod and grip his shoulder tightly. The world is going dark and tilting sideways. “Don’t… don’t let me forget. It’s her. It’s Lily .”
“Okay, okay,” Mateo says. “Just calm down. I promise, I won’t let you forget.”
But that’s not enough. I grip him harder, desperate, the fear clawing at me and pulling me under. “ Say it . Say her name.”
“Lily,” his voice steady and sure. “I won’t forget.”
I nod, my chest heaving as I try to hold on. ““L-l-lily…” I whisper, as the blackness invades my vision. “M-my b-b-bird.”
I slump against Mateo and feel his arms come around me. A flat surface rises up underneath me. I can’t forget.
My phone buzzes on the counter. The name flashing on the screen is the last one I want to see.
Goose .
I tighten my grip on the kitchen sink, staring out the window, trying to focus on anything but the ache in my chest. I’m torn on whether to answer it.
He’s been MIA, and this is proof at least that he’s okay.
I want to verify it for myself, but I also can’t open that door again because once open, it’s so hard to shut out.
The phone stops vibrating for a second, but then it starts up again.
“Damn him,” I mutter under my breath. My hand shakes as I reach for the phone, and on the fifth ring, I finally swipe to answer, snapping the phone to my ear.
“Goose, I said all—”
“Lily?”
It’s not Goose. The voice on the other end is panicked, hurried, and not that of a man, but younger.
“This is Mateo,” he says in a rush. “You don’t know me.
But I live with Goose. And he’s… he passed out.
I think he took something. Pain meds or something, and there’s alcohol everywhere.
He’s bleeding too. I called 911, but I don’t know when the ambulance will get here, and I don’t know what to do.
I don’t know his insurance or how to give CPR.
I tried to reach Bodie and Raven, but no one’s picking up. ”
My hand flies to my mouth, and the other I use to brace myself against the counter. “Wait, slow down. You said Finn’s passed out? Is he breathing?”
“Yeah, but he’s out cold. The ambulance should be here soon, but I… I don’t know how to handle any of this.”
My breath hitches, and the floor suddenly feels like it’s sliding out from under me. “I’m coming. I’ll be right there.”
I don’t even think about it. I hang up and run .
I fly out my front door and race down my front steps.
My legs pump beneath me, feet pounding the pavement as I race toward Goose’s place.
My pulse thrums in my ears. The warm evening air is balmy against my skin as I cut through it and push my body to its limits.
My muscles burn, and my breathing comes in short, sharp bursts.
My plan had been to keep as far away from him as possible, but now… none of that matters .
When I finally reach Finn’s place, I practically fall through the front door.
“Mateo?”
My eyes fly around the spacious studio apartment with a huge open area, and then to the door on the right that’s Finn’s bedroom.
“In here!” he calls out and appears in the doorway of another room on my left.
He waves for me to follow him. When I enter the room, I very nearly trip over a liquor bottle. The room is in total chaos, papers strewn all over the floor, pill bottles, piles of journals scattered around, and yeah, more liquor bottles.
But it’s the sight of Finn lying on the floor with blood on his face that sends a wave of nausea through me and nearly takes the strength from my knees.
I rush forward and fall to his side. Resting my hand over his chest, I confirm for myself that he is still breathing. The sigh that leaves me is full of relief. I check his pulse, which is slow and weak.
“Is he going to be okay?” Mateo’s standing. He has one arm wrapped around his stomach, the other crossed over his chest as he bites his thumb. His face is pale, and his eyes appear haunted.
“I think he’s just lost consciousness, but we’ll get him to the hospital just in case.”
He nods “I didn’t expect you to get here so fast. Thank you,” he says, sounding surprised but grateful.
I peer back down at Finn. His nose is still bleeding. His shirt and jeans are stained with blood, and some of it’s dried on his face. My hands tremble as I shake him gently. “Finn. Finn, wake up. What did you take?” Though I try to stay calm for Mateo’s sake, fear coats every syllable I utter.
Finn groans, his head lolls to the side. His lips move, but it’s a jumble of sounds, nothing coherent.
“Help me get him up,” I say with confidence, despite the adrenaline and anxiety pumping through my veins. “We need to get him to the bathroom.”
Mateo doesn’t hesitate. He moves to Finn’s other side, and together, we haul him up and drag him into the bathroom.
Finn’s dead weight has us using every bit of our strength to manage it.
We get him to the toilet and prop him up.
My hands are visibly shaking as I grab his face, turning it toward me.
“Finn, you need to wake up. You have to puke this shit up. Do you hear me? Finn.”
His head rolls forward. I go dizzy as the shortness of my breath tries to pull me under, my chest burns as the panic attack tries to take hold, but I fight through it. I don’t have time to get lost in my own head.
Before I can think too much about it, I pry his mouth open and shove my fingers down his throat, hoping it’ll trigger his gag reflex.
He gags, his body jerking forward, and finally, he vomits into the toilet.
I hold him steady and try again. When he’s vomited up most of what’s in his system, Mateo helps me move him, and I sit back against the tub with him in my arms. While combing my fingers through his hair, I whisper, “Stay with me, okay. Please, baby. Stay with me.” The words keep spilling from my lips over and over again.
Finally, the high-pitched screech of a siren cuts through the air. Mateo leaves the room. Not too long after, he comes back with the EMTs, and we start answering their questions as best we can.
They take over Finn’s care, and I step back to let them work. “He has dissociative amnesia and often gets really bad migraines. He’s been on meds for it, but I think he’s been taking more than he should or mixing them with pain pills and alcohol.”
“Are you his wife?”
“Yes,” I say, my voice firm. Because fuck them or anyone who would keep me away on that technicality.
One of the paramedics nods, checking Finn’s vitals, and the other places oxygen over his face. When he’s stabilized, they work to load him onto the stretcher.
I ask which hospital they’re taking him to and let them know I’ll follow in my own car. Mateo steps up beside me, his face a mix of worry and guilt. “Can I ride with you?” he asks.
“Of course. I just need to grab my keys.”