Page 356 of Phobia
But tonight I feel robbed of my ability to breathe. Everything I've ever wanted, everything I've ever needed, it is all wrapped up neatly within one person.
My little bird.
My angel.
My Anthony.
I close my eyes, trembling all over. Just before I completely lose it and crumble, the faintest of noises floats from above and I run, rushing, taking two steps at the same time, stumbling and scrambling to get to my love.
“Oh, my God!”
I whimper as I see the carnage in our bedroom. Anthony's body is in a heap on the floor. I drop to my knees.
In the space of one month, my angel has been at the precipice of death twice. Yet as I scoop him up, frantically crying out his name and looking for his pulse. It’s right there, stronger than ever.
Lost in time for God knows how long, I cry over his disfigured face and the body that is frail yet so goddamn strong it keeps surviving the most horrendous of abuse. There is no way he doesn’t have at least a dozen fractures and internal bleeding. I don’t want to imagine the bruising that will set for weeks.
“Anthony, baby, I love you,” I cry out, holding him closer, burying my face in his bloodied hair. “Please don’t leave me.”
Anthony breaths on, his fingers weakly clutching mine as he endures the aftermath of yet another horrendous assault on his body. What penance is my angel paying? Why must he suffer like this time and time again? Where does he find the strength to keep holding on to life?
He simply never gives up.
Anthony has fought for me. For us.
Frantically, I start feeling up my pockets for my phone. If I don’t call Andre immediately, we’ll both perish. I will be damned if I let my angel’s sacrifice be in vain.
“Fuck, fuck!”
I’ve left it in the car. There is no fucking time. I scoop Anthony and hate myself when I hear him cry out in pain. I run down the stairs as fast as I can. At the bottom, I freeze at the sight of Andre looking up at me with wild eyes.
“You fucker,” he cries out and rushes to me.
“You didn’t do it,” I sob.
“You’re everything I’ve got you, idiot.” He looks away but there is no hiding his tear-stained face. “Fuck,” Andre screams as he kicks at the wall. “I almost fucking killed you. What the fuck is wrong with me?”
I can’t imagine what is going on in his mind, but now that I know he won’t be blowing up the joint, I need to take care of Anthony.
“I need you to get Leech.”
Andre shakes his head and walks away.
“Andre, please. I wouldn’t ask you if there was another option.”
“No god-damn way!” he barks over his shoulder, but he ain’t walking further away.
“I can’t go to the hospital. I can’t risk them taking him away. And they will, Andre! He is a fugitive.”
Andre looks hesitant. His head is bowed as he is mulling over my words.
“Andre, I beg of you, he…” I take a step forward and then another until I’ve reached him. “Please look at him.”
Andre turns reluctantly and I know the impact the red hue illuminating Anthony’s battered shape has on him. Andre sucks in a ragged breath and his resolve visibly crumbles.
“Please,” I plead with him once more.
Andre reaches for Anthony, and I instinctively take a step back. He pulls his hand away, hurt written all over his face. I’m not going to apologize. Andre of all fucking people should understand exactly how I feel.
