I’m screaming, panicking, rolling her to her side, and holding her down. I’m lost. I’m desperate and I’m still screaming, but this time it’s for help. I hear banging on the front door, but I can’t leave her to answer it so I scream at whoever is there to call 911. And I scream it over and over again until I hear sirens in the distance.
Saylor’s eyes are open, but they are lifeless. Her body is still jerking and she has wet herself. The movements are so violent that the only way for me to prevent her from hurting herself is to climb on top of her. My arms are holding down her arms. My legs pin her legs, and I’m fighting like hell to keep my weight off her tiny body. When I hear someone beat on the door, I order them to kick it down. When I’m not sure if they can, I wonder what the fuck I’m gonna do. Then I hear gunshots, and I’m afraid that whoever is coming in might not be who I think it is.
“Dirk!” I hear Shady scream from the kitchen and I’m so relieved I let out a sob.
“Shady! Shady, help me!” I’m screaming and my vision is fuzzy. When I blink and I feel wetness run down my cheeks, I realize I’m crying. But I’m not just crying. I’m hysterically sobbing and begging for help. I’m begging for someone to save her. I’m screaming for Shady, and I don’t know why. “Help me!” I yell, and it’s so loud and guttural it hurts my own ears and burns the back of my throat.
“Dirk.” I look over to see Shady on his knees on the bed next to me, his hand on my shoulder. “Dirk, the paramedics are here. I need you to let Saylor go so they can take care of her.” I look around the room and see two men staring at me wide eyed. I look down at Saylor, whose convulsions have diminished to erratic shakes.
I move off of her and out of the way of the paramedics, who immediately begin examining her. Shady has my phone and he is talking to someone, and giving orders to the paramedics. And I’m just standing here, thinking I’m in a bad dream.
When I hear one of the men tell the other one to get her shirt off, something inside me snaps. I’m not thinking rationally. The reasonable part of my brain is telling me that they are helping her, but the other part is telling me to kill. But, before I can get to them, I feel the darkness taking over. Suddenly, the floor is coming up to my face, and it’s the last thing I see before it completely consumes me.
—
I wake up and rub my eyes, thinking how terrible this nightmare was compared to the ones I had growing up. When I reach over to feel for Saylor, my arm hits something hard and plastic. And then my senses kick in. I smell rubbing alcohol. I hear the steady beep of monitors, and when I open my eyes, I’m in a hospital room.
I sit up, cringing at the ache in the back of my head. I look over and in the hospital bed next to me lays Saylor, who is sound asleep. And very much alive. What the fuck? I go to stand, but something pulls at me and I look down to see an IV attached to my arm. I’m wearing a hospital gown. I search the room for a clock, but can’t find one. Judging by the darkness outside the window, it’s late at night. How long have I been out?
I look back over at Saylor, and let the memory of what was not a nightmare come back to life. She was seizing. Was she okay? I was gonna kill the paramedics. Did I? Shady was there. Where was he now? I hear the door open and one of my questions is answered. Shady is here.
“Hey, man. How ya feelin’?” Shady asks, stuffing his face with chips.
“What happened?” The room begins to spin so I lay back down, hoping it will still. It does.
“Saylor had a seizure. She’s stable now.” Shady takes a seat at the end of my bed and I want him to tell me everything, but because I can’t stand smacking, I wait for him to finish eating.
“It was about eight this morning. I was on my way to the store and an ambulance passed me. I don’t know why, but I had a feeling I needed to follow it. When it headed in your direction, I called you. When you didn’t answer I knew something was wrong.” Shady swallows hard and I watch his brow furrow as he relives the moment.
“I could hear you screaming, man. Begging for help. The neighbors were trying to get the door open but it wouldn’t budge. I shot out the lock and . . .” He stops, running his hands through his hair and struggling to find the right words. “I’ve never seen you like that. It scared me.”
I think back to how I’d let panic overcome me. The feeling of helplessness is still fresh and it still fucking hurts.
“I told the paramedics not to touch you. I didn’t know what you would do. So I talked you into getting off her and then called Dr. Zi from your phone. He said for them to take her straight to the ER. When they tried to get her clothes off so they could take her vitals and hook to the port in her arm, I saw the look in your eyes. I knew you were going to do something you would regret. So, I hit you.” I stare at him, unbelieving.
“You hit me?” I ask, needing him to confirm it.
“Yeah. Maybe a little too hard, but I figured you’d done something to me to justify it.” He smirks and I reach back to feel the knot on the back of my head.
“You hit me?” I still can’t believe it. Shady packed a powerful fucking punch if it knocked me out cold.
“Well, technically, the butt of my gun hit you.”