A deeper voice responds. Lorenzo.
More talking. Too quick for me to follow.
"Marina." Sophia's back. "Lorenzo's calling a doctor right now. Someone who can help. They'll be there as soon as possible."
"How soon?" I look toward the bedroom. "He's lost a lot of blood, Soph. I don't know how long?—"
"The doctor will get there. But in the meantime, I'm putting someone else on. Her name is Kristen. She knows medical stuff. She'll tell you what to do until help arrives."
"Kristen?"
"Just trust me."
There's a shuffle. A pause.
Then a new voice. Calm. Steady. The kind of voice that sounds like it's talked people through emergencies before.
"Marina? I'm Kristen. Sophia told me what's happening. I need you to take a breath and tell me exactly what you're seeing."
I force air into my lungs. Let it out.
"He's on my bed. Unconscious. There's a wound on his left side, below his ribs."
"Okay. Is the blood flowing fast? Like a faucet? Or is it more of a slow seep?"
I walk back to the bedroom. Force myself to look at the wound instead of his face.
The blood is dark. Spreading slowly across the sheets. But not gushing. Not pulsing.
"Slow," I say. "It's slow. Dark red, not bright."
"Good. That's actually good news." Kristen's voice stays even. "If it was arterial, it would be bright red and pumping. Dark and slow means it's probably venous. He's not great, but he's not as bad as he could be."
"So he's not dying?"
"Not immediately. But we need to keep it that way. Do you have clean towels? Sheets? Anything you can use to apply pressure?"
"Yes."
"Get them. Fold them into a thick pad and press it against the wound. Firm pressure. Don't let up."
I grab a towel from the bathroom. Fold it like she says. Press it against Dante's side.
He doesn't react.
"I'm doing it," I tell her. "What else?"
"Keep his legs elevated if you can. Pillows under his knees. It helps with blood flow to his vital organs."
I let the wound and wedge pillows under his legs, then I put the towel on the wound again keeping pressure.
"Done."
"Good. Now check his breathing. Is his chest rising and falling steadily?"
I watch. Count.
"Yes. Steady. Maybe a little shallow, but steady."
