asking for help
.
I am a house on fire,
an acid rain under your skull
Repeated pounding in my head, muted pain, the heaviness. All that heaviness keeping me underwater. I want to grab on to something, but only the void welcomes me, it spreads its arms for me. It’s so kind.
Eleonore, is everything alright?
The voice feels muffled, as if coming from behind a wall, soft fingers leaving pressure on my wrist. Bringing warmth but not calming my thoughts. The voice belongs to a woman. I want to focus more on it but can’t.
What’s wrong with her? Was she like this when you found her?
The other voice belongs to a male. But my mind is one big messy place build of chaotic thoughts; I can’t even master any names to fit with the voices.
Yes, she must have passed out, she’s not responding yet, but breathing regularly. I checked her pulse and it seemed normal just a bit weak.
Good, yes. Let me handle this from here, Joan.
Are you sure I can’t help with anything?
No, no. She will be fine; she just didn’t take her medication on time.
Medication?
Heart issues, the arrhythmia family.
But her pulse…
It has got stronger now, it’s how it works with her; a form of bradycardia* that sometimes causes her resting heart rate to drop too low when she ignores the symptoms for too long. Besides she chose not to sleep last night. It wouldn’t normally be an issue, but with that and the lack of medication - you know how stubborn she can be.
Yes, I do. Well, this explains why she always looks a bit pale and restless; she should take more care of herself - like she seems to do for others around here. Alright, Charlie. I will be on the third floor if you need anything.
Okay, thanks.
My eyes weigh a ton, but I make myself open them as things start to become less hazy.
That’s right; try to keep your eyes focused on me. Just perfect, now follow the light. Yes, your vitals seem fine and your pulse is in order now. It’s a good thing you don’t actually have any heart issues.
His voice is calm and professional, fingers wrapping themselves around my wrist, sending weak warm energy through my veins. I make myself breath peacefully, watching his blue eyes closely and imagining a blue sky in summer, the best kind. The warmth finally reaching every part of my body, resting in my tired brain. His next words turn into an urgent whisper.
What happened, Nora?
He helps me sit up, as I hold my head with one hand, my skull pounding like crazy. I fear I might throw up and look around in a panic, searching for a bucket or a trash can. I really didn’t want to vomit all over the carpet, this situation was embarrassing as it was, no reason to add to it.
Eleonore.
Huh…? Oh, I… I don’t know, Charlie. I honestly don’t know. My head started to hurt bad. It just got so loud.
That’s’ because the medical team was handling an accident that happened on Main Street, near the docks; we had a lot of patients to take care of.
No, not that.
Then what? I don’t understand.
I stare at him for a moment deciding if I should tell him.
In my head. It got really loud in my head.
Oh.
Yes. It was awful. All those screams and memories blending together.
What kind of memories?
Bad ones.
He stares at me, waiting for more. I don’t know what to tell him.
Charlie, everything has to have a start. But that’s not the problem.
Then tell me what it is.
His voice becomes sterner. I feel his frustration in my own veins, the pain in my head not helping the situation.
The problem, Charlie, is that I am a bad person that deserves everything that happened to her.
Nora.
His tone changes again, he’s finally lost for words.
See? Even you can’t deny it.
I stand up on shaky legs and back out to the hallway, in desperate need of a bathroom;
but he grabs my hand first.
Charlie, please let go. I feel nauseous.
He sees the sweat on my forehead and how my hands visibly tremble.
Fine, but this isn’t over.
I know.
Are you sure?
Yes, I am. I wouldn’t risk losing you like that.
Thankfully the words, “I need you” don’t fall out as well, I didn’t want him to get a wrong idea. He closes his eyes and runs hands through his hair, grabbing on to it - I just hope that he doesn’t rip it all out.
Fine, go to the bathroom, but I’m taking you back to your flat and making sure you are alright. Is that clear?
Very much so.
I head out of the room but then turn back with hesitance.
What about your work?
Somethings are more important. I’m going to call a taxi, take you home then come back to the hospital. Fine by you?
I nod, trying to hide how much his words moved me. Some things are more important. It feels like each letter is sticking to my skin and warming it up. I leave the room and try to block out the events of this day. Reality seemed like a too big obstacle to even consider. I needed to save the few sane remainings I still had left.
_____
Just as promised, he drives me back in a taxi, does some shopping while I wait in the car, then makes sure I am well and comfortable once we get into the flat. Ordering me to lie down and take some sleeping meds that he gives me. He cleans up the place, changes my sheets and makes me tea, leaving a bottle of water and some salty crackers on the nightstand just in case my stomach feels better - but even the thought of it causes nausea to return. I nod numbly as he makes me promise that I will stay in bed after he leaves and that I should call if anything wrong happens.
I try to focus on his words before they all become one blurry mess again. He wants to know that everything will be alright, so I pretend that it will. For him. I would lie anything just not to see that worried expression on his face. My mind doesn’t seem to master any positive vibes, but I remember how to move my facial muscles, so I smile and hold his hand tightly. Pretending. Pretending. Pretending. Broken body, broken fabric. Please just go. The door closes behind him, locks shift, silence slipping from the walls. I walk to my bed and fall on it with a heavy weight, eyelids giving in. I just want to sleep, nothing
else. It’s all I want.
But nothing works.
I can’t sleep, I can’t function.
Finally, desperate, I stumble out of bed and into the bathroom, laying on the cold tile floor. It’s the only thing that seems to soothe my falling apart state. Hours pass as the morning turns into noon. The increasing amount of daylight mucking my state. Maybe if I made myself get up, if I could do something mundane to bring out of this crazy maze. Something normal. Finally, a basic need breaks through numb thoughts. Thirst. That simple.
My feet drag across the floor, hands slipping past walls as I reach the kitchen. I grab the kettle in shaky hands but the handle slips and the thing bangs against the floor, setting my eardrums into a shockwave. My teeth grind against each other as I try to focus on everything but the pain itself. Tears start to fill my eyes and land on my shirt as I take deep breaths. Don’t think, don’t think, just don’t think. Hold on to something. NOW. Cupboards in the kitchen, shelves, table, walls, ceiling. Anything, it can’t take you again.
Hands sprawled against the kitchen sink, I feel the pain growing, distant thoughts that aren’t mine stabbing my mind one after another. Curses, veils, shouts, screams under my skull. Louder, they break in, prowling for more of my barely existing senses. Stab, stab, stab. My palms hit the sink, and stuff around me shakes. The sound of nails scraping against the metal surface, I feel the taste of salt and rust in my mouth; I must have bit the inside of my cheek. I spit out the blood into the sink and quickly rinse it off with water. A proof that you’re going insane, darlin’, might as well admit it.
And suddenly I’m frightened of what might happen next.
My hand trembles as I grab my cell phone from the living room and choose a number. Everything around me shakes and I feel sick again. I couldn’t do this alone this time, they were too loud. They wouldn’t stop shouting. As if I lost any remains of control that I had before. The blow in the hospital unblocking something in my head. Almost as if murdering off the statics that made the noise barrable and tuning my brain into the “right” station, so now I could hear all. That’s how it felt at least. I was being attacked. And as I feel the bitter taste in my mouth, new words overflow me, making me listen only to them. I am a house on fire, an acid rain under your skull. My body shivers and I have to sit down on the floor just so I don’t faint. I preoccupy myself with counting the rings on the line as I wait for the answer.
Charlie?
What’s going on?
I need help.
Two seconds of silence as he analyzes the tone of my voice. Two long, unbearable seconds that make me curse the world and what hell it stands on.
I’ll call Robert to pick you up.
My hand drops the phone as my body rolls into a ball, hands covering my ears. Before I pass out, my mind sends me an image of how he found me the first time around, how I made myself get up from the floor to answer the door to a man, I hardly knew. To someone that didn’t call that cops when he should have. I see it all again with a clear vision, wondering if he hadn’t done that, the pain would be already over. It would all be over. I finally pass out and sink into the darkness.
_____
About 30 minutes later.
Heavy nock on the door, rushed, loud. But no doorbell. Thank god, he instructed him well. The noise brings me back to awareness as I lay on the floor but can’t seem to move, my mind hazy, body unstable. I get up slowly trying to co-ordinate the work of my limbs. I feel like one of those animals brought home from a vet, and waking up from too much tranquilizer. I fight the locks for a moment and open the door just slightly. I look up, narrowing my eyes and staring at Robert’s tall frame. His expression seems to be both worried and confident like he is ready for any challenge that may come his way. His positive attitude makes me want to knock him down with my bony fists.
Come on, I was told to take you; hostage style. Like it or not, you’re coming with me.
What, no hello, no Eleonore how are you feeling? Are you still alive or have you always looked so damn attractive?
I know what I’m here for, and I’m going to do it. Now, get some clothes... and if you want I can carry you down, no problem. It doesn’t look like you weigh anything.
He gives me a once over and my free hand rolls into a fist while the other one digs into the doorframe.
No, I’m not going anywhere. I’m fine where I am.
Good, he said you would put up a fight. You look awful by the way, but that’s fine, I’m not here for the sights.
He says calmly, yet his tone is light. After all, it’s Robert. The man that’s always staying on the positive side of life. Normally that quality wouldn’t bother me much, however now it was more than I could bear without snapping at him. My eyes narrow even more. He didn’t realize who he was dealing with, even in this state. I’m just about to shut the door, but before I can do anything he opens it wide, right along with me, my feet sliding helplessly against the wooden floor. I’m so surprised that I almost fall to the ground. Thankfully he catches and holds me up without even breaking a sweat.
How about now? Will you get dressed?
No.
I growl and almost spit the word at him.
Fine, I’m a reasonable enough guy. We can work around this.
I stare in disbelief as he looks around efficiently, clears out some stuff from my sofa and points at it while staring at me with an amused expression. Ugh, I’ve seen that look before on a different Evans brother. I never liked it, on neither of those handsome, smug faces.
What are you doing?
I ask, crossing my arms and spreading my legs farther apart. I wasn’t going to budge... but just seconds later I feel worse and he rushes over to me, losing the amused grin. He yanks me up and carries me to the sofa before I can protest. He picks up a blanket from the floor, shakes the dust off and spreads it over me. I look up annoyed.
That wasn’t’ necessary.
I have a different opinion on that.
I stare at him coldly as he heads to the kitchen, makes a lot of noise, then comes back, holding a glass of water for me, and a bag of chips for him. He turns on the TV and hands me the remote, then sits next to me, right arm resting comfortably against the back of the sofa. My disbelief grows with every second as he ignores the daggers that I send his way and just grins back. He’s so cheerful. I moan exasperated.
So, what are we watching?
I’m close to yelling at him but then I feel the heaviness of my body and the numbness that covers my mind.
Whatever rocks your boat, be my guest.
My body sinks under the blanket, head resting on a messy stack of pillows that separates me from Robert’s overwhelming enthusiasm. I stare at the colorful screen without seeing anything, then close my eyes to disregard reality in the best way that I knew how.
______
4 hours later.
She’s in there.
I hear Robert’s voice, then look up to see him pointing in my direction where I’m sitting on the sofa, covered in way too many blankets that were added over time when the chills started to kick in. My frustration grows as the feeling of being treated like a helpless child takes a strong stand, seeming to boil through my insides. I should have never called anyone. As if I couldn’t just get up from my own floor after waking up and stagger myself to bed, getting some water and pain meds on the way. It was a moment of weakness, I say to myself. Just a stupid moment of weakness. Do they think that this was bad? Well, they haven’t seen anything yet. None of them saw me after it all started after that first weak passed and everything just kept escalating and growing. Does he think everything was all nice and pleasant before I stumbled to that hospital? That it was the first time when I stole meds like morphine, Oxycodone, or Fentanyl? That I haven’t found ways to survive before this thing killed me first?
Yes, I can see, thanks, I got it covered here.
No problem, see you later Nora.
My stare follows them as they exchange meaningful glances. Wonderful, it was official then, I was on daycare watch, and the new babysitter just started his afternoon shift. I feel the anger grow even more, but I make it slow down before I start screaming. They were just looking after you, none of them had to be here but still, they came, for you. You ungrateful, little shit. I focus on slower breathing as he comes over to the sofa and sits beside me on the edge, as if careful not to break me. My gaze shifts to the wall, as I’m trying to block out my surroundings again. Sadly, I’m not doing a very good job at it.
How are you now? Rob told me on the phone that is was getting better.
He doesn’t seem to be convinced as the words leave his mouth.
Charlie, listen. The only thing that happened today was the fact that I felt bad and fainted.
Fainted, again.
He puts pressure on the last word and I finally look at him, my entire body both tense and exhausted.
Yes, I am aware. But I’m fine now.
It seems that no one in this room is convinced of what they’re saying. Unexpectedly he leans in closer and wraps his arms around me, locking me in a tight embrace. My face sinks into his shirt, arms close to each other, body curling into a ball, fitting into him like a cocoon. My words are muffled by his clothes when I speak.
I didn’t mean to get you so worried.
He moves away to hear me better.
But the lack of sleep and your help must have rubbed more off on me than I thought. And that accident, all those people in need of help... shouting at me, complaining, in pain of their own. It was just too much to handle.
I can feel his gaze on mine, so I just stare at my hands. They feel so cold.
And?
And what?
What about those memories that you mentioned before?
No words answer the silence, my body automatically covering itself tighter under the blanket. I feel his hand slipping under the thick material and touching my hand. I don’t even feel it anymore. And that’s the moment that I finally feel the fear manage to creep under my tired thoughts; heart beating faster as I stare wide-eyed at him. The sounds leaving his mouth barely getting through to me.
Come on, you are staying over at our place and answering some questions when you feel better.
He sounds stern, his fingers adding pressure to my wrist. It’s the exact time when the warmth cracks through my defenses, bit by bit melting the ice away. My body and mind accepting what is being given to them. I relax a little, but then what he just said starts to make sense.
Charlie.
Just a few questions, so I don’t go crazy like you.
Even though those words were meant as a joke, his expression remains both concerned and stern. He’s not going to let it go this time. I sigh, too tired to even protest properly, every neuron in my body begging for any form of rest. His features seem to loosen up a bit at my final defeat.
Good, now get dressed and we can go.
Slowly I get up, hoping to do it with some grace but my head starts spinning and I have to hold on to him instead. He helps me with the jacket and shoes; my moves slow and uncoordinated. Then he puts an arm protectively around my shoulder, and I wrap mine around his waist for the support that I so desperately needed. Trying to ignore how natural and good it felt, to have my body nested against his. Some things were better left alone and I had nothing to offer anymore, the things that once worked inside of me, now damaged beyond repair.
________
*Bradycardia is a condition typically defined wherein an individual has a resting heart rate of under 60 beats per minute (BPM) in adults.[1] Bradycardia typically does not cause symptoms until the rate drops below 50 BPM. When symptomatic, it may cause fatigue, weakness, dizziness, sweating, and at very low rates, fainting.
___
If anyone is curious to know more about the story.
https://theprose.com/post/230936/with-all-my-senses (chapter 1 )
19. https://theprose.com/post/288893/loosening-the-knots
20. https://theprose.com/post/292279/list-of-amends
21. https://theprose.com/post/301927/a-tired-mind-is-a-dangerous-one (last 3 chapters)
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