Chapter 8: Forgive me
The punches rained down on Carlos who felt himself slowly but surely slipping into unconsciousness. He had already stopped reacting, either orally or physically. He was in pain, there was only that for him, pain.
T.K. was busy on his side, his eyes filled with tears because of the horror that was taking place before his eyes. He had given up the idea of undoing the knot that tied the belt to the bar of the closet. He was now trying to dismantle the bar. He managed to lift it slightly, but for the moment not enough to make it leave its notches of maintenance.
A scream of rage made T.K. turn his head toward the bedroom door and a wave of relief poured over his heart as Judd charged at Dylan, followed closely by Paul. The two firefighters managed to knock their opponent off the bed and two against one managed to subdue the blonde mountain after a few minutes. Dylan was face down on the floor, locked in an arm lock by Judd, who was sitting on his opponent's back.
Paul rushed to his former teammate's side, picked up the scissors from the floor and quickly cut the belt. T.K. lost his balance and would have fallen if his friend hadn't caught him. He tried to pull himself away from his arms to reach Carlos, but Paul stopped him.
"Wait, wait, I'm taking this off, let's not take the chance that you'll run out of air. "
The rescuer let him do, impatient, his eyes riveted on the immobile body of his lover. Barely free of the belt, he rushed to the bed, lovingly running his fingers through Carlos' curly hair.
"Hey Babe, open your eyes for me please," he begged with tears in his eyes.
At the lack of response, he placed his ear over the swollen mouth and breathed a sigh of relief as he felt a faint, but present, breathing against his skin. His first-aid reflexes quickly returned. Now that he was reassured that his lover was alive, he was going to make sure he stayed that way.
He looked up at his colleagues and friends. Paul was compressing Carlos' stomach wounds with a piece of clothing. He then turned his green eyes to Judd.
"Help is on the way, I've got Grace on the line," he said, drawing T.K.'s gaze to his earpiece. "How is he doing?"
The young man then began to examine his lover, shivering as he watched him.
"His face is swollen…" he gently ran his fingers around and over the areas that were already starting to swell or change color. "I think his left cheekbone and left arch are fractured, at least cracked."
He shifted on the bed, ignoring his own pain to inspect the other injuries.
" He has purplish marks on his throat, but doesn't seem to have any after-effects. He has…"
TK paused as he watched Paul's hands compress the wounded man's stomach. He suppressed a sob, blaming himself for being so slow to react...
"He has three shallow wounds on his belly, but they are very extensive. They are bleeding, I apply a direct manual compression," intervened Paul.
"They are due to blows of belt," specified TK before turning over to the legs of the policeman. "His legs are swollen and blue. His shins are certainly fractured from baseball bat blows. He has telephone shards embedded in the skin of his left leg."
His gaze traveled up the body he loved so much, usually so strong, but now it looked vulnerable and broken.
"He has cuts on his wrists, caused by the handcuffs. The wounds are superficial, but they are bleeding, so I'm going to compress them."
T.K. got off the bed, grabbed two T-shirts from the floor and sat back down next to his man's arms, turning his back to his two ex-teammates. He wrapped the cloths around his wrists and pressed them under the worried faces of his friends.
"And you, T.K., how are you?" asked Judd.
" I'm doing fine."
"Spare us your stories," said Paul. "Doctors will have to look at his throat, he was hanging in the closet by a leather belt. His shoulder is purple, he's obviously having trouble moving it and he has several large bruises all over his body."
"I'm fine, it's Carlos you need to worry about…" TK repeated in a muted voice.
He looked at his lover's face, feeling guilty that he couldn't do anything more to help him.
"Grace, we'll need a doctor for the attacker, too. Stab wound to the left arm, open wound to the skull and left ear, missing a piece. The man is uncooperative and very violent. I keep him immobilized, but I can't perform first aid on him. Paul and T.K. give Carlos first aid."
He paused, T.K. wasn't really listening, the only information he was interested in was when help would arrive.
"Thank you," Judd finally said. "Guys, the police and ambulances are on their way. They'll be here in two minutes."
Both men confirmed that they understood.
"How did you know?" asked TK, not that it made any difference. "Don't get me wrong, I'm relieved you're here, if you... if…"
He was overcome with emotion as he imagined what might have happened if they hadn't intervened. His voice shook, but he kept himself from breaking down, Carlos still needed him to be strong for them both.
"We're here T.K., it's over," Paul told him gently.
"Carlos had told me about his fears and since I couldn't take you home, I wanted to stop by and make sure everything was okay."
"You must have been disappointed," joked the paramedic, trying to think of something other than the anguish that was gripping his heart at seeing his lover's condition and thinking about what they had just been through.
The two firemen laughed, a little yellow, then Judd resumed his explanations.
"When we arrived, we went around the house, everything seemed calm. Then we saw the foam on the bathroom window, which seemed strange. So we tried the front door. As soon as we opened it, we heard Carlos' screams. By the time we called dispatch to get help on the way, we were there."
"Thanks guys."
T.K. said nothing more, interrupted by the sirens outside. He had rarely been so relieved to hear them. He had just enough time to whisper to Carlos to hold on, that help was on the way, that law enforcement, followed by EMTs were entering. He agreed to step back and let the medical team check him while another one took care of his man, but he never took his eyes off him. After what he had just experienced, he was afraid of what might happen to Carlos in his absence. The paramedics started some IVs for the officer and T.K., while Paul cut the rope that held Carlos' handcuffs to the bed. Law enforcement and a medical team attended to Dylan, who was neither cooperative nor friendly. In order to free T.K. from the insults and threats made by their prisoner, they removed him from the room. Carlos' partner was one of the intervening officers. She freed the injured man from his cuffs using her own keys. She gave a gentle look to her teammate, then to T.K., before rejoining her team.
The fluids quickly had the desired effect and the Latino's eyes fluttered.
"T.K.," he whispered weakly.
The paramedic broke away from the hands tending to him to grab his love's. His other hand gently brushed the curly hair.
"Sorry," Carlos whispered again.
"Shhh, you have nothing to be sorry for, I love you Babe, it's over."
"Love you," the Latino breathed before he lost consciousness again.
The paramedics pulled T.K. back again and worked around Carlos. They efficiently prepared him for the ambulance, agreeing to let T.K. ride with them in the vehicle. As soon as they arrived at the hospital, the doctors separated the couple and gave them each a battery of tests. The New Yorker passed out as soon as he was placed on a gurney, his body finally giving up after all he had endured.