Page 125 of The Prodigal Son

“Did you take something? Did you…” My voice trails as I shuffle in my pockets for my phone.

Jensen continues to cry, his head hanging limply from his body. The next few minutes pass in a blur. With trembling fingers, I dial 911.

Jensen mumbles incoherently, and I can’t take my eyes off him as the lady on the line asks me so many questions I can’t answer. My entire body trembles and when he starts to daze out, I grab his shoulder and shake him violently.

I barely hear the woman on the phone, but when she says the ambulance is on the way, I drop my phone on the tile and hold his face. Tears are running down my face as I hold him close to me.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs against my shoulder. “I tried to…stop it…”

“It’s okay,” I cry. “Just stay with me. Please stay with me.”

“I can’t do this anymore,” he sobs. “It hurts too much, Isaac. It hurts. You have to let me go.”

“I’ll never let you go,” I say through quivering lips, stroking his face and looking into his lifeless eyes. “What did they do to you?”

He floats harrowingly in and out of lucidity as he stares forward without truly seeing me. It’s like his mind is already gone, and I shake with fear.

“I love you,” I whisper, trying to hold him to this moment.

Delicately, he repeats after me. “I love you.” There is no feeling in his voice. No heart. No Jensen.

Then he starts to cry again and my heart shatters. It breaks into a million shards of glass and leaves me as nothing but a hollow shell. He looks like he’s in agony, so much pain. I wish I could take it from him.

“Do you think God is mad at me?” he cries and if I had anything left in my chest, it would kill me to hear him say that, but I’ve shut off all of my feelings. It’s like my mind is protecting me from feeling the gravity of this moment. Letting the fear in would mean accepting what Jensen has done. It means grasping the severity of the damage they’ve caused. It would mean knowing just how bad he’s been hurting and never seeing the signs. Instead, I just hold him and whisper how much I love him.

I hold him until the ambulance comes. I keep him awake until the paramedics drag me away and tend to him.

I feel nothing. My face is tear-soaked and my heart is numb.

They usher me out of his room entirely. And everything happens in slow motion. I hear him retching and crying. I sob alone downstairs on his couch because none of this is fair. Nothing.

I’m alone, and I’m so fucking tired of being alone. So I pull out my phone and I call my brother.

Luke picks up on the first ring, probably alarmed by my calling so early in the morning. And in an emotional rush, I tell him everything. I manage to hold it all together until they bring Jensen downstairs on a stretcher. His eyes are closed and he has an oxygen mask on his face.

I just want to hold him. I want to tell him how much I love him and for no one to give us a hard time about that. Aren’t we allowed that much? In this day and age, I thought we were finally free, but we’re still not. It’s all an illusion.

“Where are you taking him?” I cry, and the paramedic gives me the directions.

Then they’re gone and I’m sitting alone in Jensen’s house, waiting for my brother.

“I’m coming, Isaac. Don’t move. I’m coming!” Luke shouts into the phone. I hear his car door slam in the background.

When he pulls up a few moments later, every ounce of composure I once had is gone. I break down as soon as his arms go around me. I don’t just cry; I wail. My voice is cracked and deafening as I scream into my brother’s shoulder. I cry for Jensen and for me. I cry in pain and anger. I let everything I’ve stowed away in the past eleven years come flooding out.

I don’t feel any better when it’s over because I won’t feel an ounce of relief until I know he’s okay. So, after shutting the door to his house, I rush out to the car with my brother. He drives me to the hospital in silence.

There’s not a single thought in my head. Not a song lyric. Not a memory.

When it feels truly quiet in my mind, I close my eyes. And I pray.

They won’t let me back to see him because, of course, I’m not his husband or his brother. They act like being his boyfriend means nothing. So Luke and I are stuck in the waiting room. I’ve had about two hours of sleep all night and I am wired and restless.

The hours tick by. I keep asking for an update, but they can’t provide one. If they could at least just tell me he’s going to be okay, then I could at least go home and try to relax.

No, I couldn’t. Who am I kidding?

Since the moment I met Jensen, there has been an invisible string between us, and the distance always felt like torture. Now, it’s unbearable.

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