I yank off my socks and in a split second wrap them tightly around his forearms to stop the bleeding, tying them just above the wounds because the blood keeps flowing.
I tighten them as hard as I can on both arms.
At the same time I can’t stop the painful sobs tearing out of my chest, because for a parent there is nothing worse than seeing your child lying limp on the floor, pale as a sheet.
I hear running footsteps and know it’s Aiden who must have felt my distress.
"Lake! Lake!" he yells.
"Here, Aiden, here, hurry, it’s Bay! He tried to…"
The words won’t leave my throat.
Aiden bursts into the bathroom, and his face drains of color, almost as pale as Bay’s.
He bends over our son and checks his pulse, as his heart sounds eerily quiet.
"He’s still alive, but his pulse is very weak."
"Call an ambulance, but better do it outside, I don’t know if you’ll get a signal here, hurry!"
Aiden runs out like a madman, and I rest my son’s head on my lap.
I’m shaking, trembling outright, whispering,
"My boy, my beautiful boy, why did you do this, why…" My voice breaks, I sob so hard I can barely see, my eyes flooded with tears. I never thought I would see something like this with my own child at the edge of life and death, flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood.
My mind instantly spins out dark scenarios of what might have happened, and I am absolutely certain it’s connected to Alex.
Did Alex leave him, cheat on him, die?
I feel the impulse to call him now, immediately, to find out, to demand answers, to ask why my son lies here fading.
Bay’s clothes are on the washing machine beside the tub, and I reach into his pocket and find two phones, which surprises me.
I look at the screen of his main phone, but I see no new messages from Alex.
Their last exchange was at one in the afternoon, Bay telling Alex he would be home in half an hour, followed by a full line of heart emojis and a couple of eggplants.
What did Bay find when he came home? Something must have happened, something that pushed him to end everything.
Suddenly Bay’s second phone starts ringing.
It’s strange that it’s getting a signal down here underground; it must be a powerful device. The phone is different, a bit thicker and heavier.
A private number appears on the screen.
I hesitate, staring…
Something feels off, but in some strange impulse I answer and bring it to my ear.
"Hello, Bay," a voice says.
"Who are you?" I snap, my voice shaking.
There’s a moment of silence.
My other hand strokes Bay’s cold forehead, but I don’t end the call.
