“I’m d-doing it,” I choke out into the phone on the floor beside me.
“You’re doing great, Amy.Paramedics are seconds away.Keep holding on.”
I close my eyes, forcing myself to keep breathing.
I can hear the first faint wail of a siren.
Thunderous, forceful banging on the door makes me jump.
“Paramedics!”
“C-coming!”
I end the call with the operator.Leaving the bloody towel on James’s arm, I force myself to stand on shaky legs.I rush to the door, my bloody hands leaving a smear on the handle as I pull it open.
Two paramedics rush past me, their attention locked on James.They’re followed by two police officers, their presence sending a fresh jolt of terror through me.
The room is suddenly crowded and loud.
“Ma’am, I need you to step back,” one officer says, his voice firm but not unkind.
I stumble backward, watching in a horrified daze as they swarm around James.The paramedics are a whirlwind of efficient, urgent movements.They cut away the sleeve of his shirt, calling out terms I don’t understand.
The second police officer approaches me, notebook out.“Can you tell me what happened here, ma’am?”
“I d-don’t know,” I stammer, shaking my head.“He called me.He sounded drunk.Then I heard a horrible crashing sound.Like something heavy hit the floor.And he stopped answering me.I got worried and hurried here.I found him like this.”I press a hand to my quivering mouth, hot tears spilling down my face.
“So you weren’t here when this occurred?”
I shake my head vehemently, watching a paramedic secure a bandage around James’s arm.
“Let’s get him on the stretcher.Now!”
The words snap me back.
They’re taking him.
As they wheel the stretcher toward the door, I rush forward.“Wait.Can I come with you?”
The paramedic gives me a quick, assessing look.“Are you family?”
“Yes,” I lie.The single word tastes like ash in my mouth.“I’m his fiancée.”
He nods.“Alright.Let’s go.”
I grab my phone, throw it in my purse, and follow them out, leaving the wreckage of James’s apartment behind.
I climb into the back of the ambulance.The doors slam shut, sealing me in with the unconscious man whose hold over me was supposed to be broken.The vehicle lurches forward, beginning its rapid tear through the streets of Madison, its siren a deafening wail.
I’m huddled on a small bench seat in the corner, feeling utterly useless, my hands painted in James’s drying blood.Two paramedics work over his still form.One places an oxygen mask over his pale face.The other expertly inserts an IV line into his uninjured hand.
They are calm.
They are in control.
I am the only one falling apart.
My mind becomes a merciless projector, flashing images against my eyelids.
