The Protege by Cole Denton

Patrick

Twenty-four-years-old | November

Get to Chase.

Don’t tell Hollis.

Everything can be sorted out.

Just get to Chase.

As I drove like a mad man from L.A. to where Chase was in Beverly Hills, all sorts of terrible thoughts crossed my mind. Chase was known to be a prankster, but I didn’t think for a second that this was a joke.

I was sweating and felt like I had a brick sitting in my stomach by the time I arrived at the gate to the neighborhood. I rolled the window down and waved to the gate guard as he greeted me and let me through. He had been one of the gate guards ever since I’d moved in with Hollis’ family during high school. Once I was clear of the gate, it was difficult not to speed down the street to the house that had been the best part of my life. I parked in front of the house, hopped out of my SUV, and fished the house keys out of my pocket as I ran to the door. I rang the doorbell rapidly a few times while I shoved the key into the lock. I doubted anyone else was home, but then a sick thought entered my mind; what if something had happened to his parents?

No.

Not possible.

Kristin and Charles were both at work.

I turned the handle and then pushed the door open. I meant to grab hold of the keychain, but I pushed the door harder than I thought. I wasn’t able to grab the keys as the door swung open and away from me quickly.

“Fuck!” I swore as the door banged into the doorstop. I yanked the key out of the lock and then shut the door. Everything was quiet.

“Chase?” I called out. I walked to the center of the foyer and listened. There wasn’t a response, so I ran into the great room and kitchen.

“Chase!” I raced over to the patio doors and looked out into the yard. The pool looked calm. Good.

I ran to the stairs and took them two at a time as I called his name. There was no sign of him in his room, so I went back out to the hall and called out for him again.

“Pat—” Chase’s faint voice called my name but trailed off coughing. I ran to his bathroom and found him crouched on the floor near the toilet and shower. My eyes immediately went to the side of the toilet where there were streaks of blood. His hair was soaked and when he looked up at me, I could see he was pale, and his eyes looked tired.

“Chase.” As I knelt, a knife on the floor of the shower caught my eye. There was blood on it and some blood smeared on the tile wall. “Chase, talk to me, buddy. What happened?”

He dropped his head, and gut-wrenching sobs poured out of him.

“I couldn’t do it,” he cried.

“What, Chase?”

He held his arm out toward me while keeping his head down. My heart pounded harder when I saw all the blood. His hand was red from smeared blood, and his wrist had a small amount of blood running from a cut. Blood was on his shirt and jeans.

“Chase.”

He released a plastic translucent bottle, and I picked it up to check the contents. Oxycontin. I instantly started thinking about my dad and how he gave me the pills to take the pain away. They just led to problems. Oh my god… How did Chase get these fucking things? I put my hand on his back and tried to focus.

“She’s pregnant. The fucking son of a bitch made us do it, and now he’s cut her out of modeling and…” Chase leaned over the toilet and threw up some fluids. He pounded on his stomach, as if trying to get himself to throw pills up. Fuck.

“Chase, I need to get you to a hospital.”

He nodded.

“I can’t get them up, and I’m so tired.”

“Do you remember how many you took?”

He shook his head and then started to cry again.

“My parents are going to kill me. I just can’t kill myself. I’m a fucking coward,” he cried.

“No. No, Chase, you’re not. Your parents love you, and we’ll figure this out. But you’ve got to let me call an ambulance—”

“Can’t you take me?” There was something urgent and insistent in his voice.

“I can. But we need to go now. Let me wrap your arm up.”

I quickly grabbed a hand towel, but it was too thick for me to tie to try to stop some of the blood loss. I held it around his wrist, and we walked at his slow pace to the stairs. I was really worried about not being able to get him to the hospital in time. He stumbled and fell over in the hallway, and I knew I couldn’t waste more time.

“Chase, I need to get an ambulance.”

He didn’t complain or argue about me calling the ambulance. I hurried back to the bathroom, picked up the cordless phone he had called me on, and dialed 9-1-1. While I waited for them to answer, I knelt by his side.

“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”

“Yeah, um, my brother cut his wrist and has taken Oxycontin. We need an ambulance. 1642 Athens Drive.”

“Okay, what’s your name?”

“Patrick.”

“Patrick, please stay on the line with me and let me get some info. An ambulance is on the way as we speak.”

“Okay.” I crouched on the floor beside Chase and put my arm around him.

“What’s your brother’s name?”

“Chase. Chase Hawkins.”

“How old is Chase?”

“Sixteen.”

“Is Chase awake?”

“Yes, but he’s drowsy.”

“Are there any weapons in the home?”

“No. I mean, the knife, but I think it’s from the kitchen.”

“Is Chase acting violent toward you or anyone else in the home?”

“No. He called me. There’s no one else home.”

“The ambulance is close, Patrick. They’re approaching your neighborhood now.”

“Okay. I can hear the sirens.”

The dispatcher let me go as soon as the paramedics pulled up, and then I raced downstairs to open the door for them. I led them upstairs to where Chase was.

“Do you remember what you took?” one of the guys asked him.

Chase nodded but didn’t say anything else. I ran to the bathroom and grabbed the plastic bottle. I glanced at the name on the bottle that the pills had been prescribed to. Perry Hastings. I had no idea who this was. I handed the bottle to one of the paramedics. He nodded while the other paramedic looked at Chase’s wrist.

“Are you having any difficulties breathing?” one of the paramedics asked Chase as they slowly walked down the steps with him. I followed closely behind them.

“A little bit. I tried throwing up. I feel dizzy,” Chase explained.

“We’re going to get you taken care of. Let’s get you to lie down,” a paramedic said as he guided Chase to the gurney in the entryway. “Are you okay with us putting the straps across your body?” he asked.

As Chase nodded and answered the paramedic's additional questions, the other paramedic got my attention.

“Where are his parents?”

“They’re at work,” I said.

“Before we take him and administer care, we need permission from an adult family member.”

“I’m twenty-four. I give permission,” I said confidently. Charles and Kristin would want Chase taken care of quickly.

“Sign here, please.” I took hold of the clipboard from the paramedic’s outstretched hands. I quickly signed my name on the line he pointed to.

“Can I ride in the ambulance with him?” I asked quietly. I hoped they’d say yes because Chase needed me. He was scared and needed someone familiar to be close.

“Yes,” he replied and set the clipboard in a slot in the gurney close to Chase’s feet. “Ready to roll, Chase?”

Chase nodded and then asked, “Can Patrick come too?”

“Yep, big brother is coming too.”

As soon as they were out the door, I stepped out behind them and locked and locked it. I followed behind them and waited until the gurney was loaded and for one of the paramedics to climb into the back. The driver motioned for me to climb in and pointed to where I could sit. Once I sat down, the driver closed the door and then went around to get into the driver’s seat.

While the paramedic started an I.V. in Chase’s arm, I looked at his hand that had the streaks of blood on it. His fingers twitched against his jeans as the needle was inserted into his arm.

“You’re going to find that it’s easier to breathe again. I’m going to cut your t-shirt open and put some sticky pads on your chest to keep an eye on your heart rate. Then I’m going to clean up your wrist, and by the time I’m finished we should be at the hospital.”

Chase looked at me while the paramedic worked on him. His jaw and lips quivered, I reached out and took hold of his hand.

“It’ll be okay, Chase.”

He closed his mouth so tightly his lips formed a tight line, and he turned his head slightly to look away from me.

“Chase, man, try to relax. We’ll figure it out.”

“Mom and Dad are going to be so mad at me.”

“No, they’re not. It’ll be okay.”

“And Hollis and Morg.”

The heart monitor began beeping quicker, and the paramedic pushed a button next to the screen.

“Chase, take a couple of slow deep breaths for me, bud.”

I squeezed his hand and kept my eyes on his while he followed the instructions of the paramedic. I nodded at him and smiled.

“It’ll be okay,” I said to him.

“Promise?” he asked.

Promise.

“I promise you, Chase.”

I took a deep breath and kept my eyes on his. My mind raced to when Hollis took me to his parents to tell them I needed help. I was so scared, but Hollis promised me it would be okay. And it was.

And now Chase needed that reassurance.