Shoot Down The Stars (The Stars Duet 1)

“If you aren’t sure, I want you to start chest compressions, okay? I’ll walk you through it.”

“Okay,” I whisper as I follow her methodical instructions. I pound on his chest repeatedly, unsure if I’m doing this hard or fast enough. I breathe into him and stop long enough to see if he can take one on his own. He can’t, and I repeat the motions on his chest. My tears soak his shirt as I cry.

I look at his face, taking in every inch of his lifeless features in case it’s the last time I ever see them. I look up and see that Kevin has left the room. I hope it’s only to open the door for the paramedics.

The world around me fades until all I see is David. By the time the paramedics arrive, I’m not sure how long I have been trying to save him. My body is sore from using all my strength to press on his chest, leaning my entire weight onto him, over and over. I try to barter with God or the Devil, whoever will listen. I vow to never get high again if one would only spare David. I offer myself instead. This is all my fault.

The first responders sweep me back. I hold on to David’s hand until they physically drag me away from him. The paramedic looks over at me.

“What happened?”

An EMT finds the empty syringe and needle beneath the desk and the leftover packets of heroin on the table. They stop looking to me for answers.

Watching them work on David is an out-of-body experience. Faces blur and everyone moves in slow motion. Their words echo in my head. The EMT places his hand on the side of David's neck and holds it for a few moments.

“He has a pulse.”

He takes an AMBU bag, covers David’s nose and starts mechanically breathing for him. The paramedic works methodically, as if he has done this a thousand times before. He struggles to find a vein within David’s tangled mess of scar tissue. He finally finds one that wasn’t destroyed by David’s overuse. He pulls out a small orange box and withdraws a vial of IV medicine. He draws the medication into a syringe and pushes the plunger, letting the medication seep into David’s arm.

Another first responder ushers me out of the room. I don’t want to leave David’s side, and I beg to stay. They won’t allow it. I leave David’s apartment, not knowing if he will be able to get through this.