“Can you call for an ambulance?” she asks.
I dig out my phone and dial 9-1-1. Soon, I’m rattling off details to the emergency responder, but the words feel all wrong. Almost like lies.
Can you tell me what happened?
I was climbing the fence in our yard and fell.
Told the little shit not to do that, but he doesn’t like to listen.
I shut my eyes to force out the vision of my dad hovering over my hospital bed, spewing lies about my broken fingers.
“We have an ambulance on the way. Stay on the line with me. Make sure his airway is clear, and he’s not at risk of hurting himself.”
I register the words. However, I’m frozen to the spot. No amount of internal commands will get my body to move. To gather Beau into my arms and assure him that I’ve got him.
“How long has the seizure been going on?” the responder asks.
“I don’t know.”
I have no fucking clue what I’m doing. I didn’t when I found my dad dead, and I don’t now.
So, I continue to watch Beau suffer, his hands clenching and limbs jerking while the responder asks for updates I can’t give because I’m not sure I exist in my body anymore.
Fear sinks its claws deep into my ribs and cleaves me open. I don’t want to lose him. I never wanted to lose him.
What if he doesn’t come back to me?
Beau’s muscles finally relax, and his eyelids droop closed. He groans as he tries to lift his head off Stasi's lap. It drops back onto her thighs like it’s too heavy for his neck. A simple command minutes ago that’s now an impossible feat.
“…messed everything up,” he slurs, fighting to push himself upright once more.
My lungs constrict to the point of suffocation. I did mess everything up.
“I’m so sorry, Beau,” I murmur.
He blinks his eyes open, seeking me out in the dark, empty room. His lips part but words stick in his mouth, held there by a fog of confusion he’s fighting to shake.
I don’t move closer. I’m terrified I’ll hurt him more. I’m not built for this shit.
“This isnotyour fault, Liam,” Stasi says in a firm tone. “You were both playing.”
My face contorts into a grimace. Fear is everywhere now. Reflected back at me from two pairs of worried eyes. Almost like they’ve been bracing for when I decided I couldn’t do this anymore. Like they’ve been waiting for me to break them.
Beau’s words circulate in my head.Have you ever tried?
Fuck.I’m trying, Beau. I’m here. I’m here, but I’m no good for you.
The doorbell rings. I have enough of a mind to rush over to open it. Paramedics flood in with a stretcher. I hang up with the dispatcher, realizing I haven’t been responding to her.
I stand in the entry hall, unable to do more than exist in a cloud of self-disgust.
When they haul Beau past me, I avoid meeting anyone’s eyes. Shouldn’t they be questioning me about his injuries? That’s whathappened the first time the police showed up at my house and discovered me standing over my dad’s corpse. They’d ushered me out onto the porch and wrapped a blanket around me until the shock wore off and I could speak. It was the first time I’d come clean about the abuse. I thought it was the worst moment of my life.
But this…this right here is so much worse.
A soft hand touches my arm, drawing my gaze down to a pair of watery brown eyes. Something twists inside my chest. Stasi was perfectly collected during Beau’s seizure, but now I can see her calm start to unravel, slipping out from where I imagine she compartmentalizes things at work.
“Will you talk to me?” she whispers.
