Eye of the Storm

Chapter 30

Standing in the elevator, heading to the intensive care unit fills me with fear I didn’t know I had. Why is he in intensive care? What did he do? What happened to him? Will he be okay? My mind feels like it’s swirling, and I can feel my throat closing as I plant my hand on the elevator wall to stop myself from falling over, throwing up or both. Although, I’m completely unaware of how big the hoodie is, as the sleeves cover my hand and my attempt to stable myself just resulted in my hand sliding down the metal wall, bringing me down with it.
“Whoa there!” Nic exclaims. I feel tingling sensations across my body, and I pull my head to see Nic’s arms holding me up. “stand up, soldier,” I don’t know if that was an attempt at humour or not, but my brain isn’t really cooperating enough for me to figure it out. He steadies me on my feet just as the elevator door opens. I don’t know what comes over me, maybe the dizziness or maybe the fact that I can feel the weight of the world on my head and shoulders, but as Nic goes to pull his hand away I find myself gripping to it for dear life. He pulls me out of the elevator and positions me up against a wall, away from public view.

“I know you’re scared, it’s going to be okay, relax, okay?” he squeezes my hand. I nod slowly, finally swallowing the lump in my throat. “I’m not going to let you go until you answer me,” his eyes stare intensely into mine and for a moment I’m scared, which somehow thrives me to stand up a little taller, snatching my hand back, regaining my posture.
“Okay,” he studies me for a few more seconds before nodding and taking a step back.
“Come along,”.

I wipe my hands on my thighs as we walk towards the room, wiping off the sweat but also maybe wiping off the memory of holding that man’s hand so tightly. We walk down a long hallway that just seems to get longer and longer before finally we reach a room with the door slightly opened.
“Alexia?” Nic calls out through the gap. My breath hitches as I wait impatiently behind the door as it opens and a distraught Alexia appears, blocking my view into the room and of my cousin. Just by the look on her face I know it’s not well. Her eyes shift away from mine, almost refusing to look at me.
“I’m sorry Esme… I...” her voice trails off. “I shouldn’t have brought in my pocket knife… I put it in… I put it in my bag for safety… I didn’t know.”
“Alexia! Please,” Nic cuts her off. Pocket knife? I push past a spluttering Alexia but before I can fully enter the room a nurse appears in front of me.
“What’s your relation to Lorenzo?”
“Cousin,” she nods slowly, motioning for Alexia and Nic to leave the doorway and close the door. They do so and I’m left in a room with this lady and a green curtain to the side of me, various noises screaming out from behind the curtain. I know he’s behind there and it takes all my restraint not to swipe the curtain open and see Lorenzo, see that he’s okay.
“Take a seat,” the nurse says, motioning to a seat just behind me next to a table with unfinished meals scattered across. I sit down, still unable to tear my eyes away from the curtain. “He’s asleep at the moment,” her voice is calm, her eyes softly gazing in my direction.

Keeping in my tears was hard as the nurse explains to me what happened, how lucky he is to be alive. It’s a feeling impossible to describe, hearing those words: ‘lucky to be alive’. Relief washes over me that he is, in fact, alive. But within seconds that’s replaced with a feeling I can’t put into words. A deep, dark feeling that I almost lost him, a feeling that maybe if I was here, I could have stopped it, a feeling that there is something in this world that would drive my happy go lucky cousin to slit his wrists so deep. Nurses found him quickly enough and prevented blood loss, but he had severed the nerves so deep that being able to use his hands again is not a possibility anymore. The nurse and I talk for some time, many doctors coming in and out in the process, all giving me a look of ‘sorry’ which to be honest didn’t make me feel any better, maybe even worse. The nurse finally says that she’ll give me a call when he’s awake and doing a little better so I can come visit him. She jots down my number, gives me several pamphlets for ‘what to do when a loved one attempts suicide’, ‘what can I do to help?’ and ‘this isn’t your fault’. I shove them into the big pocket in the front of my hoodie, say thank you and leave.