I cradled his lifeless body in my arms, the steady drip of blood staining the floor beneath us. I should have known better, but the days and nights we’d spent together, he’d seemed to get better. How wrong had I been?
Only now, as I stared at his pale face, did I realise just how much he’d been holding back.
“Harvey, don’t you dare die on me.”
He’d promised me he’d stopped, and that he hadn’t cut since we first met, but looking at the fresh cuts and scars on his arms and legs, how much of that was true?
I kissed his cold, blue lips and tried to breathe life into him, unsure whether it was a futile attempt.
I fucking loved the bones of him, although I’d never told him. A realisation I’d only recently come to, and if he died, what point would there be in living? My life would be empty without him. Nothing would ever be the same.
I sat on the floor and rocked him back and forth. Tears streaming down my face.
I wouldn’t lose him this way. I had to do something. His pulse fluttered weakly at his neck.
Yes, there was life there.
I stripped off my shirt, then my vest, and wrapped them as tightly as I could around the wounds on his wrists, hoping it was enough to stem the flow.
Where was my fucking phone?
I scrambled around and found it near the door where I’d dropped it. The sight of Harvey lying on the tiled bathroom floor had been a shock. Thankfully, it was intact.
I dialled, relieved when the call was answered right away.
“What’s your emergency?”
“Ambulance and hurry. His pulse is weak. I’m not sure how long he’s got.”
“Tell me what’s happened, sir.”
“He’s cut himself. There’s so much blood.”
I could feel it seeping into my jeans, but I didn’t care.
“I’ve dispatched a unit to your location. Can you stem the flow?”
“I’m trying, but there’s just so fucking much of it.”
“How long has he been like this?”
“I don’t know. I came home and found him like this. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions. A unit is nearby. I’ll stay with you until they get there, okay? Stay with me. Can our unit get access? Is there a door open?”
Had I closed the front door? I couldn’t remember. “I’ll check.”
Reluctant to leave him, I dashed downstairs and opened the front door, leaving it on the latch. I could hear the faint sound of sirens and hoped to God they were heading my way.
I ran back upstairs and resumed my place at his side, his frigid hand in mine. He looked as if he was sleeping; the furrows between his brow smoothed out. I picked up a piece of glass from the floor and held it to his lips, relieved when the ghost of his breath appeared.
He wasn’t gone yet.
The clatter of boots on the stairs told me the paramedics had arrived. A man and a woman clad in green carrying cases entered the small bathroom.
“Sir, we need you to let him go so we can work on him.”
The man nodded to the woman, and between them, they took Harvey from my blood-soaked arms.