CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Simon
Jesus fucking Christ!
Patrick was on the floor, leaning again the wall with Dion hovering over him. Both of them looked shocked to see him. The overturned furniture and the despair in Patrick’s expression caused Simon’s heart to plummet. His first instinct was to run to Patrick, but his training had taught him to proceed with caution in cases like these, because he knew, without a doubt, something very,verybad was going on.
“What did you say?” he addressed Dion. The guy looked like a deer caught in the headlights. His usually curly hair was wild, and his face was pale, making his wide eyes stand out.
“I didn’t mean to do it!” Dion launched himself from his chair, but instead of rushing to Simon like he expected, Dion backed himself against the wall a little further along from Patrick. Thank God he’d kept that distance, because if he’d gone near Patrick, Simon would have torn his head off.
“Are you okay, Patrick?” he asked, without taking his eyes from Dion. It was the knife he’d grabbed from the table that had Simon’s attention.
“I think so.” Patrick’s voice was shaky.
“Can you get up?”
In his peripheral vision, he saw Patrick try to get his feet under him but fail. He slumped against the wall again.
“What did you do to him?” Simon yelled at Dion.
“I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to hurt him.”
“I hit my head. I’m… I’m okay.” Patrick rubbed the back of his head, and he didn’t look at all like he was okay.
Dion looked down at Patrick. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” The hand holding the knife shook, and Simon didn’t take his eyes from it.
“It’s okay, Dion. I’m fine. I just hit my head. I’m going to be all right. Please put down the knife and let Simon help you.” The pleading in his voice tore at Simon’s heartstrings.
“Help me?”
“Let him help you with your insulin. You’ll feel better once you’ve had the shot.”
Simon looked to Patrick. He was pale, and a fine sheen of sweat covered his skin. He forced himself to focus on what Patrick was saying, instead of following his first instinct of tending to him. “What about his insulin?”
Patrick’s eyes were wide as he stared at Simon. “He’s a diabetic. His blood sugar is too high. We were just getting it sorted when….” Patrick tilted his head and looked up at Dion. If Simon wasn’t mistaken, Patrick’s gaze focused on Dion’s clenched fist and the knife, before meeting Simon’s gaze again. “Just help him. Please.”
It took only a moment for Simon to assess the scene and prioritize what he needed to do. He gave Patrick a curt nod and kept his voice strong and calm. “Dion, you’re hyperglycemic. You know what that means? You need insulin to bring your blood sugar down. I’m a paramedic, I can help you.”
“No!”
“Please, Dion. Let him help. Or if you don’t want help then do it yourself, please.” Patrick kicked out a leg. His action knocked an insulin pen toward Simon.Where did that come from?As if expecting his question, Patrick answered. “He had everything prepped and dropped it.”
Simon took a few small steps further into the room, moving slowly so as not to spook the obviously upset Dion. He crouched slowly and picked up the pen from where it had rolled into the middle of the room. He gradually rose to his feet and looked at the device. It was a fairly standard prefilled insulin pen. All that should be required was to dial the correct dose based on the blood sugar readings from a simple test. It was a fast-acting product that should stabilize Dion within ten to fifteen minutes. Simon studied the pen then looked up in confusion.
“This is empty.”
Patrick met his gaze and tilted his head. “What?”
“The pen. It’s empty. There’s no insulin.”
They both looked at Dion.
Dion cowered against the wall and started mumbling. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
The sense of dread was all-encompassing, ice filling Simon’s veins. “What the fuck have you done?” Simon stepped closer as he spoke to Dion, pleased to see him try to push himself further against the wall. “Tell me what you’ve done?” He took another step and lowered his voice. “Answer me. I don’t want to have to ask you again.”
Dion looked down at Patrick, and Patrick’s face was a mask of confusion as he looked from Simon over to his friend. “I’m sorry, Patrick. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just couldn’t let you say anything to anyone.”
