Knocking on Death's Door; Kenny's POV
Who would've guessed? I go to Stan's house for some waffles and I find him in his room bleeding and near death. A pocket knife was next to him. Stan had attempted suicide. The gruesome sight shocked me, from the slashes on his wrists to the twisted smile on his face. He was so pale and cold, if he hadn't been breathing I would've pronounced him as good as dead. His breathing was shallow and raspy, but he was alive.
I wanted to know why he was there, on his bed and dying, but there was no time. I stumbed out of his room and to the phone. I was panicked, unnerved, and grossed out. I called 911, the his mom's work number which was on the fridge, and then Kyle. I figured that would do for now. I got his mom's voicemail and left a hysterical message. I reached Kyle, but he sounded extremely pissed off.
"Hello?" he asked bitterly and annoyance evident in his tone.
"Dude, Kyle!" I gasped, still in my crazed state, "Stan's in his room bleeding and dying! He's dying! And-and-"
I began stuttering, trying to find the words to say, when I realized Kyle had not replied. "Kyle!"
"What do you mean Stan's in his room dying!" he sounded half angry and half scared.
His tone frightened me, "I think he tried to kill himself! I don't know! But, I don't know what to do! Please get over here and help me! His address is 564 Danders' Drive."
After making the phone calls, I went back to Stan's room with some towels. I remembered something from health class about applying pressure to wounds to stop the bleeding. I wrapped the towel around his gouged wrist, pressing as hard as I could. I could only do one wrist at a time, so the other remained bleeding. I heard the front door slam and the sirens of the ambulance. Kyle skidded into the room, panting and sweaty. He fell to the floor when he saw Stan's unconscious, bleeding form.
The paramedics rushed in and lifted Stan onto a stretcher and carried him out. Kyle and I were instructed to follow them and get in the ambulance with our friend. Since Kyle was basically nonresponsive, I had to help him out of the house and into the back of the truck.
We were interrogated, they wanted to know our relationship to Stan. I replied that we were his friends, adding that Kyle was his best friend. They wanted to know where his parents were.
"His mom's at work and his dad ran off a couple years ago." I replied with Kyle nodding blankly.
They wanted to know what drove him to his current state.
"We... we don't know..." Kyle told them sadly, his eyes showing his disbelief at the moment.
There were no more questions asked of us. When we reached the hospital, Stan was rushed to the ER so he could get stitches and a blood transplant. I was the same blood type as him, so was Kyle, so we both donated a pint of blood to him. He'd need it. We were left in the waiting room, me pacing and Kyle staring at the floor. I don't remember how long we had been there before Stan's mom burst in the room looking hysterical and afraid. When she spotted us both, she collapsed into tears. One of the doctors eventually helped her, but I was too antsy and Kyle too stunned. Then we waited some more.
Stan and I had never been close, not like him and Kyle, but he was my friend. Occasionally he'd give me some extra food to help me out at lunch, or come by my house to drop off a dinner his mom cooked for us. When he fell into poverty, I helped him out by showing him how to ration things and gave them some of our food when they needed it. He'd done that for me, so I payed him back. Lately we haven't hung out as much, even if he lived across the street. At school I hung out with Eric or my girlfriend of the week, rarely spending time with Stan and Kyle. Normally it was just at lunch. My fear of losing him surprised me, as I thought about it later on, but I did care for him. Once we had been good friends and I wanted to believe we still were. I never could've imagined him knocking on death's door and leaving us. He wasn't that kinda guy.
Stan was the voice of reason among us on occasion, always looking at things from various directions and trying to find another solution. Why hadn't he done that here? Surely there was another solution other than suicide! He could've told us, or gotten help, or fight against the urge to die. He always was a fighter. But not this time, Stan took the easy way out this time, the coward's way.
I should've known something was wrong with him, he seemed so tired and sad when we walked to class after the outburst of Kyle and Eric.
"Kenny?" his voice was weak and his eyes were empty, "Do you ever feel... alone?"
I arched an eyebrow, though I'm sure he couldn't see due to my hood, "What do you mean by alone?"
"Like, when all you can hear is your own heart pounding and the voice in the back of your head and your steady breathing. And even though there are others around you, all you feel is dark and cold."
I thought about what he said. Stan could be really poetic, no wonder why his only grade was in English. "Well, no not really. When I'm by myself sometimes, but never around other people." I turned to face him, "Why?"
"No reason." was his reply and we dropped the subject.
Something was definately wrong with him, but I didn't even give it a passing thought. Pff... some friend I am. Kyle must be feeling worse though. I glanced at him, he still looked dazed. I wondered what he was thinking. My gaze left him when the doctor came to us. He addressed Stan's mom, but I still listened and I think Kyle did too.
"He's stabalized."
Stan's mom sighed in relief, but tears still streamed down her cheeks. Kyle lifted his head, the glazed look leaving him. As for me? I couldn't help but smile at the news. Stan had doorbell ditched.
