“My parents are going to kill me. I just can’t kill myself. I’m a fucking coward,” he cried.
“No. No, Chase, you’re not. Your parents love you, and we’ll figure this out. But you’ve got to let me call an ambulance—”
“Can’t you take me?” There was something urgent and insistent in his voice.
“I can. But we need to go now. Let me wrap your arm up.”
I quickly grabbed a hand towel, but it was too thick for me to tie to try to stop some of the blood loss. I held it around his wrist, and we walked at his slow pace to the stairs. I was really worried about not being able to get him to the hospital in time. He stumbled and fell over in the hallway, and I knew I couldn’t waste more time.
“Chase, I need to get an ambulance.”
He didn’t complain or argue about me calling the ambulance. I hurried back to the bathroom, picked up the cordless phone he had called me on, and dialed 9-1-1. While I waited for them to answer, I knelt by his side.
“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”
“Yeah, um, my brother cut his wrist and has taken Oxycontin. We need an ambulance. 1642 Athens Drive.”
“Okay, what’s your name?”
“Patrick.”
“Patrick, please stay on the line with me and let me get some info. An ambulance is on the way as we speak.”
“Okay.” I crouched on the floor beside Chase and put my arm around him.
“What’s your brother’s name?”
“Chase. Chase Hawkins.”
“How old is Chase?”
“Sixteen.”
“Is Chase awake?”
“Yes, but he’s drowsy.”
“Are there any weapons in the home?”
“No. I mean, the knife, but I think it’s from the kitchen.”
“Is Chase acting violent toward you or anyone else in the home?”
“No. He called me. There’s no one else home.”
“The ambulance is close, Patrick. They’re approaching your neighborhood now.”
“Okay. I can hear the sirens.”
The dispatcher let me go as soon as the paramedics pulled up, and then I raced downstairs to open the door for them. I led them upstairs to where Chase was.
“Do you remember what you took?” one of the guys asked him.
Chase nodded but didn’t say anything else. I ran to the bathroom and grabbed the plastic bottle. I glanced at the name on the bottle that the pills had been prescribed to. Perry Hastings. I had no idea who this was. I handed the bottle to one of the paramedics. He nodded while the other paramedic looked at Chase’s wrist.
“Are you having any difficulties breathing?” one of the paramedics asked Chase as they slowly walked down the steps with him. I followed closely behind them.
“A little bit. I tried throwing up. I feel dizzy,” Chase explained.
