Prologue
Hank stumbled into his house. It had been a long day of school, followed by a long at football practice, followed by a long call.
And on that call he had let someone die.
It was all his fault. All his. He shouldn't have let them die. He should have tried harder. Harder. Harder. Harder.
And Hank was scared.
Not just scared because he would see that poor little girl's face every night when he went to sleep, but because he could feel his illness coming back.
It couldn't come back. It couldn't, it couldn't!
Hank wouldn't let it.
He wouldn't.
He was stronger now then he was before, and he wouldn't let it come back.
Hank lay on his bed, and looked around.
It was messy. Too messy. He could see things, piled on the floor, piles and piles until they were so big they would suffocate him!
His shirts were in a pile so big it crushed him, and he couldn't see around them.
No! No! He wouldn't clean, he would do what the therapist had told him! Resist...resist...resist.
But the spaces around him became tighter, and finally he gave in.
Hank cleaned his room.
Chapter 1
Hank was acting weird today, Tyler observed. They were in the station, and it looked like he was sitting on his hands.
"What is up with you today, man?" Tyler asked.
Hank's eyes darted around. "No...no..thing. It's nothing."
Jamie drank the last of his Dr. Pepper and shot the can at the trash can. He missed. "Don't say it's nothing. You look like you took an entire bottle of no doze," He joked.
But Hank didn't look like he was paying attention to them. He was too busy looking at the Dr. Pepper can. He stayed like that for about a minute, and then rushed over to put it in the trash.
But he didn't stop there. He began to clean the station. Every last inch.
"Hey, don't worry about cleaning," Tyler called. "We can make Jamie do it!"
"Very funny," Jamie replied.
But Hank kept cleaning.
And cleaning.
Hank was putting the cups away when he noticed something.
There were 8 white cups, but 9 blue cups. They weren't equal! They had to be equal! Hank counted again. And still, it was 8 white cups, and 9 blue cups. Hank could feel the white cups, calling to him. They were sad, because one of their own had been dropped and shattered. Now the blue overpowered them.
There was only one thing he could do.
Hank grabbed a blue cup, and threw it at the ground, as hard as he could.
Now it was better.
Or was it??
The white cups were upset because they hadn't had one shattered today.
So Hank grabbed a white cup and shattered it.
But then there were more blue cups than white!
So Hank shattered a blue.
Then he shattered a white.
He was on his 7th cup when Tyler came skidding into the room.
"Hank!" He yelled. "What are you doing?"
But Hank kept shattering glasses.
When Hank was on his 13th cup (which wasn't even, by the way) the alarm went off. They had a call.
Hank had to go! But he couldn't leave the cups!
So Hank pulled all the cups out of the cabinet before running for the ambulance.
Chapter 2
In the ambulance, there was no talk of what Hank had done.
When they got to the call, it was a lady with a broken leg. She had tripped.
Tripped over a pile of newspapers! No wonder, they had suffocated her.
Hank stopped strapping her to the board, and began cleaning the house.
"What are you doing?" Val asked.
But Hank couldn't stop, no matter how hard he tried.
By the time they were ready to load her, and leave, Hank still hadn't finished. There were piles of mess, calling out to him.
Hank! Hank! Clean us!
And only he could hear them. Only he could help them.
Finally, Jamie and Tyler had to grab Hank by the arms, and pull him back to the ambulance.
But he kept reaching to the piles of things, struggling.
***
An hour later, Alex called Hank into his office while Hank was cleaning the mess he had made with the glass earlier.
Hank knew what it would be about.
"Tyler told me about what you did on the call. He's worried about you. He thinks you need help," Alex began.
"I have gotten help," Hank mumbled.
"When you joined the program three years ago, I knew about your disorder. And I knew, that though it was gone for awhile, there was a chance it would come back. Personally, I think it may have been brought out of remission from the stress of the squad. Which is why I am asking you to leave," Alex said.
"I can control it!" Hank yelled.
"You didn't at the last call. And you didn't when you broke every glass we have. I don't want to do this, Hank, you're the best EMT I've got. But having someone with Obessive-Compulsive Disorder on my squad is a danger. What if the call today had been life threatening? We'll be lucky if Ms. Frederick doesn't press charges. Now, I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. You are no longer a member of this squad."
Hank spun around and left Alex's office, hot tears he swore he would never shed again creeping down his cheeks. He didn't stop when Tyler tried to talk to him, when Brooke asked him what was the matter.
He went home.
And he did the only thing he could.
He cleaned house.