No. No, no, no…
I try to cry, but even that takes too much air.
The buzzing in my ears gets louder. My vision tunnels. I’m floating, drowning, suffocating all at once.
I’m not ready to die.
Please.
Please someone find me.
Please… Jack…
Help me.
***Bones***
I don’t remember driving here.
I don’t remember running up the steps or how I managed to kick her goddamn door in without taking the whole wall down with it. I just remember the silence.
And then I saw her.
“Sunny,” I whisper, beg, as I drop to my knees.
She’s lying on her side, crumpled like a doll someone tossed aside. Her skin’s gray. Not pale.Gray. Her lips are tinted blue, and for one terrifying second, I think I’m too late.
“No. No, no, no, baby, don’t you fucking do this to me.” My hands shake as I dig into my pocket and pull out the Narcan. I rip the cap off the first dose with my teeth and plunge the auto-injector into her thigh.
Nothing.
Just a gurgling sound like the last bit of air trying to claw its way out of her lungs.
“Breathe,” I growl. “Comeon, Sunny. Don’t do this.”
I feel for a pulse…nothing.
No. Please, no.
I tilt her back and give her my breath before I start chest compressions. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Then a breath. Again and again. Over and over. My arms are a machine. I count like my soul depends on it. Because it does.
“Don’t you die,” I whisper. “Don’t you fucking die on me.”
Her ribs crack beneath my hands. There’s bile in my throat knowing I broke her fucking bones. I’m pouring sweat, but I keep going. Iwon’tstop.
“Come back to me, baby. Come back to me.”
Two minutes. I inject the second dose.
I hold compressions. I hold my breath. I don’t so much as blink.
Her body jerks, and suddenly,finally, she gasps.
Not soft. Not sweet. It’s harsh, ugly, and wet. But it’s a breath. A real, God-givenbreath.
“Oh, thank God,” I choke out, dragging her into my lap. Her eyes don’t open. She’s not there yet. But she’s breathing.
That’s when I hear Spike behind me, loud boots, and louder voices as the paramedics barrel into the room.