Olivia
The drive to Amanda's apartment from the precinct leaves me on the edge of panic, my mind whirring with impatience at every slow cab in front of me and every red light which halts my progress. The shallow, fluttering racing of my heart causes nausea to roil up in my stomach while my grasp on the wheel becomes slick in a cold sweat.
When I finally reach her apartment complex, I park illegally next to the curb in the tight space between the stop sign and the first parking space, ignoring the fact that I may return to a ticket. Shoving the door open, I jog up the sidewalk where I see an elderly man leaving through the gate.
"Hold the door!" I call out, grabbing at my badge at my hip.
Running up the steps two at a time, I blast past his surprised expression, and towards the stairs.
The path to her door is one I've walked a hundred times, and remembering every time I trudged up these steps in frustration, or ran down them in anger tracks across my mind like burning reminders that I could've done more. If anything happens to Amanda, I will never forgive myself. I'm not even sure how I will live with myself.
When I reach the top of the stairs, I'm panting with exertion, my body trembling in dread. I slam my fist against her door, calling out to her.
"Amanda! Are you in there?"
I listen, my ears straining for any sign of her existence behind the door, but all I can hear is silence, punctuated by the sounds of neighbors down the hallway. From above, a baby begins to scream, only adding to my frenzied state.
"Amanda!" I repeat, knocking rapidly once more. "If you're in there open the door!"
I grab the door knob, and jiggle it in the small hope that it will be open, but I'm only met by the resistance of the lock.
"Goddamnit." I hiss, slamming the heel of my hand into the door.
"Hey!" A man shouts from the down the hallway. "Do you mind, lady?"
I send scathing glare down the hall, and he shakes his head with a disgusted sound before turning, and disappearing back into his own apartment with a rattling slam of his door.
Glancing back at Amanda's door, I'm about to knock again when I realize that I already have the solution resting in my hand. With trembling fingers, I flip through the keys on my keyring until I find it hidden there amongst the other metal teeth - Amanda's apartment key. It's been so long since I was inside this building and her home that I had nearly forgotten. She'd never asked for it back, and maybe I had held onto it with some naive hope that one day I would need it again. I'd never imagined that it would in this situation, but now I am grateful for my pitiful daydreams.
Grabbing the door handle, I waste no more time in shoving the key into the lock, and twisting it open. Bursting inside, I call her name again, my wide eyes darting across the space.
The living room is barren, and I rush to the kitchen, panting as I catch sight of the beer cans and bottles dotting the table and counter. My stomach surges with a sick feeling, as if all of my premonitions are slowly cementing themselves into reality. Spinning from the appalling sight, I call her name once more, and I can hear the desperation winding into my voice through the buzzing of my ears.
Charging from the kitchen, I rush to the bathroom, but it is also hauntingly empty. When I gaze down the hall to the final room, cold trepidation grips me at the sight of the bedroom door slightly ajar.
"A-Amanda…?" My voice trembles, and I can feel my heart slamming into my ribs, the blood pounding in my ears.
The panic has sucked the moisture from my mouth, and I swallow hard on a dry tongue as I step towards the bedroom. It's only a short distance, but it is the most treacherous path that I have a tread in my search for her. Beyond is a room where we have made love, where we have cried in the early hours of the morning, where we have fought, and we have forgiven.
God, I whisper in my mind, Please, don't let it be where she takes her final breath.
My vision blurs sharply as I reach the bedroom door, my toes mere inches from the threshold. I reach out with a quavering hand, and my fingers slide over the smooth surface of the door, swinging it open. With a creak, the last barrier in my quest for her slips away, revealing that familiar space, and across from me, the bed.
The breath leaves my lungs at the image of her there, facedown, her naked body barely covered in the rumped sheet. For a moment, I can hardly move, struck my the fact that she is silent and still.
"Amanda…" Her name leaves my lips like a prayer, and I finally break from the door.
When I reach her side, I gasp at the vomit spilling down the sheet and towards the floor. Her hair is a mess about her head, strands dried into the regurgitated food and alcohol. I cannot see any blood or physical injuries, but relief is the farthest thing from my mind when her body lies starkly in front of me, deathlike.
"Oh, honey…." I whisper, reaching out to push the tangled locks away from her face.
When my fingers brush her cheek, horror tears a dark path through me. Her flesh is cold, and as her face comes into view, I realize a blue tinge has taken over her glowing, pink cheeks. Her eyes are half closed, revealing only bloodshot white, and her mouth slack in unconsciousness. I yank my hand back, the breath rushing from me in shock as I stumble back for half a second. True and real panic seizes me, leaving my extremities numb and tingling.
"Amanda!" I finally find my voice in the form of a hysterical cry, right on the verge of a scream. "Oh my God, no!"
Dropping to the bed next to her, I heave her onto her back with only the strength of the adrenaline rushing through my bloodstream. I'm shaking, barely able to control my limbs as I grab at her clammy neck, searching for a pulse.
"Fuck, no, Amanda, no…No, this isn't fucking happening..." I hear myself groaning somewhere in the back of my mind, but all I can feel is how cold her skin is beneath mine.
I'm panting, on the borderline of hyperventilation, as I bend over her, pressing my ear to her naked chest. Above me, I can see her head tilted back, her ashen face expressionless. Grasping at her body, I squeeze her arms hard enough to bruise as I pray to find a pulse.
"Jesus, please…." I whimper as I strain to hear the low thrum of a heartbeat in her chest.
Finally, the faint rush of her blood drums against my ear, and I gasp a breath of relief, rubbing at her arm to try to rouse her.
"Come on, Amanda, just take a breath for me, baby, just one." I plead, hovering over her.
The damning knowledge that her heartbeat will not last long without oxygen hangs over me as I shake her, but she remains motionless beneath me. Finally, I clamber onto my knees next to her, and bend over her face. I can hardly stand to gaze at her emotionless face as I pinch her nose with one hand and lift her chin with the other. I'm shaking, a tear slipping down my nose as I hover over her for half a second, attempting to regain control over my breathing in order to give her the strength in my lungs.
Finally, I clasp my mouth to her cold lips, and breath out. Out of the corner of my eye I can see her chest expand with the forced oxygen, and I lean back, counting each excruciating second until I can breathe for her again. Locking our mouths a second time, I release the air into her throat.
"Come on, baby, you can do this." I whisper, waiting on the edge of desperation for her to breath on her own.
Every second that passes is torture, scratching across my senses with the possibility that I may have made it here too late. Remembering my irritation at her lack of punctuality this morning, I want to kick myself to a bloody mess for the time that I wasted. Now, she may slip from my fingers forever, and I know I will not be able to cope with the reality of that future. I've told her so many times that there is more to life than me, but staring down at her fleshly shell, I can barely imagine going on without her soul inhabiting it. If I cannot look into her eyes, or hear or her laugh, or feel her arms around me; if she is no longer on this Earth I do not want to live.
The desperation that grips me drives the hopelessness from my veins, screaming at me to do something to ensure that she will make it beyond this moment. Grabbing my phone from my pocket, I stab to emergency call button and set the phone to speaker. Bending over her again, I firmly grasp her nose and chin and breathe a steady breath into her lungs.
"911, what's your emergency?" My phone chatters from the bed.
Snatching it up, I steady my voice in order to speak. "Yes, I need an ambulance. I'm a sergeant with the NYPD, and I have a 32 year old female with alcohol poisoning. She's got a pulse, but I'm breathing for her."
Tossing the phone down, I perform another breath on her before I check her pulse again. I'm relieved to feel that it's still there, chugging softly beneath her chilled flesh.
"What address are you calling from?" The operator asks.
I distractedly rattle off Amanda's address before covering her mouth again and breathing. When I pull back, she suddenly twitches beneath me, the first sign of life I have been able to detect aside from her weakened heartbeat.
"Amanda?" I demand, grabbing her face, and giving her a shake.
She sputters, convulsing in my arms before she begins to gag. Her eyes are still rolled back, and vomit is bubbling up her throat, but all I can focus on is the fact that she is moving.
"Hold on, baby!" I cry, quaking in relief as I roll her onto her side in order to keep her from aspirating.
Holding her from behind, I drag her hair out of her face as she coughs and retches over the side of the bed again. The smell of alcohol and bile is rancid, but I don't care. Wrapping my arms around her chest and stomach, I rock her slowly until she collapses back into my arms, wheezing haltingly. The exhales are unsteady with long seconds in between, but I am grateful to hear anything at all.
"You're gonna be okay, sweetheart." I whisper, petting her hair back behind her ear. "Help is on the way. I've got you…"
She sags limply against me, still too inebriated to function, but I squeeze her tight, pressing my face to the back of her neck as tears of relief overwhelm me. Sobbing into her hair, I cradle her body until I hear sirens in the distance, wailing closer. Soon, they will be here to take her away from me, but I swear to myself and to her that it won't be forever this time.
Never again. I silently vow, clinging to her at the paramedic's footsteps pound up the stairs below.
In our last few moments of solitude, I kiss her cheek, and pray that she understands.
xxxxx
Leaning on the wall outside of Amanda's hospital room, I'm cradling my forehead in one hand and a cold cup of coffee in the other. It's been an hour since we arrived, and they rolled her half conscious body away, assuring me of an update soon. I'm confident of the doctor's abilities, but the 'what if' rests in my mind like a parasite I can't get rid of.
Glancing at my watch, I realize it's barely ten am, but the mental and emotional exhaustion has twisted my perception of time into hours upon unbearable hours. If I could find the peace of mind, all I would want is my bed and a long, uninterrupted sleep.
"Liv!"
I startle when hear Fin call my name from down the hall. I glance up to see him jogging towards me, his features strained with concern.
I'd barely managed to send him a text, asking him to meet me here, half an hour ago. That task alone had seemed laborious, and even now, I dread telling him the truth of the state in which I found her. Although I could not have predicted her behavior and decisions, I feel somehow responsible, and utterly ashamed.
"Hey," I say, quietly, as he meets me in the quiet hall.
"What the hell happened?" He demands, anxiously, "Is Amanda all right?"
"Sh-she'll probably be fine." I say, holding up a hand to slow the pace of his questions.
"Probably?" He repeats in a shocked tone, his brows rising quickly.
"Let's find somewhere to sit." I suggest, turning away to hide the stinging of tears in my eyes before he can notice.
Nothing inside me wants to describe the scene of Amanda's bedroom, nor the events that led us here to this disturbing end. I don't want to voice the possibility of her not making a full recovery, especially not to a person who has trusted me with his own life in the past.
I can feel his tense silence trailing behind me as we exit the hall and make our way to the lobby. Sitting down in a secluded corner, I lean my elbows on my knees, staring at the floor as he takes a seat next to me.
"Just tell me." He urges quietly.
Closing my eyes, I swallow a knot of emotion in my throat before clearing it.
"I...uh… I found her." I reply, unsteadily, my tone emitting low and raspy.
I can feel him staring at me, waiting for me continue, to give some kind of sign that Amanda is unharmed and healthy, but this is not the outcome either of had anticipated when I left the squad room.
"Found her how?" Fin finally prods.
"She was in the bed...unconscious." I force out, barely glancing at him through a sheen of tears. "She was….cold…. Her skin was blue. I couldn't hear her breathing."
His face glazes over with shock and horror, the creases in his forehead deepening quickly. I can see him struggling for words, for some kind of explanation, but there isn't a single justification that I can see fit to give him.
"I starting performing rescuing breathing." I continue, the words spilling quickly and halting from my lips. "I called for the ambulance, and kept breathing for her until she came to."
"So she's all right." Fin replies, more of a hopeful statement than a question.
"Hopefully." I say, glancing back towards the ground and pushing my fingers into my hair. "I have no idea how long she was there for before I got there."
"Well, do you know who did this?" Fin finally asks, after a moment's of hesitation.
I shake my head slowly, pursing my lips against tears that immediately fill my eyes. He's ready to believe that some stranger attacked her or broke into her home, rather than understand that whatever happened last night was self-inflicted. Fin has always believed the best about the people that he cares for, and it hurts more than I thought it would to shatter that ideal.
"Fin…" I finally whisper, huskily. "This wasn't what you think."
"What is it then?" He demands, and I can hear the anxiety in his voice.
"She drank enough to almost kill herself." I burst out through clenched teeth, turning my eyes upon him with a helpless, watery gaze.
My voice is strained with fear and anger, and somewhere in between disbelief, because I don't want accept that this is happening either.
His silence rings sharp in my ears, and I can sense him grappling with the reality of this moment, and the pain of understanding just how lost Amanda truly is. I can hardly stand to look him, afraid that the confession of my part in this will spill forth when I see the dismay written across his face. Clasping my hands over my face, I try to push back the tears that pound relentlessly for freedom at my eyes, but once my shoulders begin to shudder, I feel him touch my back with reassurance. The gentle offering of comfort causes me to collapse, and I turn into him, succumbing fully to the force of emotion.
Wrapping his arm around me, he remains steady beside me until I can overcome the tide of tears. It takes several long minutes for me to quiet, and my breathing to slow, yet still he hold me close, despite my deepening guilt.
"We're going to get her some help." He murmurs, quietly, at last, "This isn't the end. We won't let it be."