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Can You Feel Me? : Chapter 2
The throbbing of his wrist brought him back to reality. The oozing redness
was now dripping on the tiles, his fingers not stopping the flow effectively
at all. With a sudden clarity, he realized that something had stopped him
from doing what he planned. Or Someone. He shook his head again and
stumbled to his feet, the woozying effects of the alcohol and the blood
seeping out of the deep wound on his wrist catching up to him. He leaned
against the wall, steadying himself by resting his elbow on the towel rack.
The spinning of his head only seemed to intensify as he leaned more heavily
on the towel rack. With a crack it gave way under the weight of his body.
He started to slide down the wall, but it seemed like something had stopped
him, grabbed him before he could fall all the way down.
She watched as he started to slide down the wall after the towel rack
crumbled. Without thinking she reached out was surprised that she could
feel the coolness of his skin. Gently pushing upwards, she managed to get
him on his shaking legs again. A flash came to her and she saw a blonde
man, stocky, kind blue eyes. He was nearby, she knew it. She could feel
him thinking about this person, he needed to get to him. How did she make
him understand that he had to go to this man? Cursing whatever fate had
brought her to him, she sent her hands forward, pushing him from behind.
"Go to him. Go!"
His head snapped up, there it was again. That voice, the same one who had
stopped him. But where? He knew he was alone, yet the voice wasn't in his
head, it was here in the room with him. He felt a push on his back, urging
him forward.
He shivered and took a halting step forward, then another, one more and he
would be in the door or the bathroom. God, it seemed so far. One more
step, come on Carter, you can do it. Right.........left.....LEFT! His left
leg obeyed and he leaned against the door, swaying with the exertion of the
journey. His wrist throbbed mercilessly and the spinning in his head was
now starting a buzz in his ears.
He took a deep breath, his feet threatening to buckle underneath him. Then
the push came again at his back, urging him further. He stumbled under the
forward nudge and managed to scrape his feet across the rough carpet to the
door. A trail of red drops, smeared from his feet, marked his trail like
the breadcrumb trail in a fairy tale he remembered from his childhood. A
trail to find your way back home. He shook his head again, feeling a
throbbing in his ears, the rhythmic thump reminding him of his drum-set.
The door. How do I get the door open? He looked down at his blood covered
hand. He would have to use that one, the other one was incapable of any
movement. He slowly took his hand from the gash in his skin, hissing
through his teeth as the air hit it, burning. He grasped the doorknob,
trying to get a grip on it. The blood had slickened his hand, making it
impossible to turn the knob. He only smudged more and more blood on the
knob and the parts of the door around it. He groaned, oh please, just let me
get it open, please! He could hear someone talking on the other side, he
was so close. He opened his mouth, trying to call for help, but the dryness
that parched his throat made sound impossible, only a weak grunt was issued
forth from his lips.
He watched the blood surging from the gash in his arm, he had to get out of
here. He didn't want to die right here on one side of the door while help
lay just two inches away on the other side. He pressed his wrist to the
material of his t-shirt, hoping it would stop the blood flow enough for him
to get to Brian's room. The t-shirt! He looked down at the material and
ran his hand down the front of it, the absorbent material taking the
slickness of the blood off his hand. Once again he grasped the knob and
this time his grip held, slowly he turned it, each inch of twist seeming to
take every ounce of energy he had.
Click.
He nearly fell over in joy at that sound. He retracted his hand back
towards him, still holding the knob. The fluorescent light of the hallway
dazzled his eyes as the door inched open. He let go of the knob and leaned
against the wall as it swung open fully. Throwing himself forward, he felt
the impact of the door jamb on his chest. He looked out into the hallway,
moments before there had been voices, movement. Now there was nothing. He
felt moisture flood his eyes. God was punishing him for what he had tried
to do. Why couldn't there have been anyone in the hallway? Because you
fucked up, Carter, that's why. You couldn't even do one simple thing right.
She saw him pause in the doorway, tears slipping down his face. She could
feel him weakening and she could feel herself weakening right along with
him. It was like she was bound to him with an invisible cord that let her
feel what he was. She had to get him to the man he was thinking of. She
just had to. No matter what.
She took her hands and grasped his shoulders, straightening him, pushing
forward.
"Go. You can do it."
For the first time he answered her, his voice barely a whisper, yet it
seemed to scream in her ears. "I.....can't." His knees shook with the strain
of keeping him upright, the throbbing in his ears slowing ever so subtly. He
drew a shaky breath and started to slide down the doorway, headed for the
floor.
She felt panic jolt through her and stepped up behind him until she was
right behind him, her unseen arms around his waist, her phantom knees behind
his. He was weak, so was she, but maybe their combined weakness could form
enough strength to get him there.
He felt something behind him, holding him up, stopping him from sliding to
the floor, stopping his knees from buckling beneath him. He gripped the
opposite side of the doorway and pulled himself across, bringing him more
fully into the hallway. He knew Brian was in the next room. He looked down
the hallway, seeing the door. It looked so far away, almost mocking him.
He swayed unsteadily on his feet, the blood flowing out of him weakening him
relentlessly. His shirt clung too him heavily, the blood absorbing and
saturating the material. He looked down the hallway again. Ten feet. He
could do this. Five steps, ten at the most.
He felt the presence behind him, still holding him up. Carefully, slowly,
his foot slid across the threshold of the door, stepping out into the
hallway. Still leaning heavily against the door jamb, he slid his other
foot out, then braced his upper body with his good arm and swung the rest of
himself out into the hallway.
His breath was becoming shorter, more difficult to draw in. Sweat was
forming on his brow with the exertion it had taken to get this far. He knew
the longer he stood there, the less chance he had of making it there. With
a grunt of pain and effort, he groped the wall, leaving a trail of red on
the tasteful pattern of the paper. His foot slid forward again, never
breaking contact with the carpet. As hard as he tried, he couldn't raise it
enough to clear the carpet, instead sliding it along the surface. Once he
had slid it far enough forward, he dug his fingers into the unyielding wall
and jerked his upper body forward, sliding it against the wall. Once he had
jerked himself forward enough, he brought his other leg forward, using the
wall to lean into so he wouldn't fall over. One step, he had done it.
She panted behind him, feeling every part of her aching in the struggle to
keep him upright, keep him propelling forward. They had done it. It was one
step closer to where he needed to be. She saw the blood dripping off of his
jeans, the material of the t-shirt unable to absorb any more. She gripped
him harder,
"Another one. We can do it. "
He closed his eyes, it would be so easy to just sink to the ground and close
his eyes. To sleep. He was so tired. His eyes blinked open, the blurriness
taking longer to go away. He slid his foot forward again, a longer distance
this time. With a heave, he started his upper body sliding against the
wall, his hand inching along trying to prolong the momentum. Sliding to a
stop, he dragged his other leg forward until the two were side by side,
feeling the leg with all his weight on it shuddering from the load. He kept
the other leg sliding forward, until with a violent shake, his knee gave
way, crashing him forward, his upper body sliding in an arch down the
wallpaper until he was able to brace himself, his palm hitting the carpet
and sliding forward, burning him with the friction, until he was able to
grip the loops in his fingertips to stop the momentum.
His chest heaved, this palm burned, his other wrist surprisingly numb now.
His eyes clenched shut, tears streaming from them. Please, if you can hear
me, let me get there. Give me the strength to get there.
She heard his silent plea. She was shuddering under his weight. Somehow,
when he had started tipping forward, she was able to pass right through him
until she could feel him pressed against her from behind, his breaths
panting into her shoulder. She bent her elbows and gathered her strength,
he knees shaking, laying in wait.
He heard a grunt that wasn't coming from his lips as a force seemed to
propel him upwards and forwards, first his lower body, raising him until his
legs were under him and able to lock, then his upper body slowly arched
backwards until he was standing again. What felt like a hand held him
against the wall and then he felt the presence once again behind him,
holding him upright. A gentle nudge behind his knee urged him forward again
and he drew in a gasping breath, with this next step he could make it.
With a strength he didn't even know he had, his leg slid forward until he
could move it no more, his toe resting against the door jamb to Brian's
room. Then his hand gripped the wall, his fingernails gripping the cold
steel of the door jamb and his the muscles tensed, slowly dragging him
forward. He rested his head against the coolness of the doorway and dragged
his other leg forward until he was leaning against the door. The pounding
in his head was making him more dizzy as a small smile of victory graced the
edges of his blue tinged mouth before sliding off, not having the strength
to sustain it.
She was leaning against the door with him, all of her energy gone. She felt
her breath weakening along with his. They had come this far, only one thing
left. She slid her arm down his, gripping his good wrist and laying his
splayed hand on the door. Slowly she slid it upwards until it was at the
same level as his shoulder.
She felt the life draining out of him as the puddle of red grew beneath his
feet, soaking the edge of his jeans. She leaned against him, gathering her
strength for this one last action.
"What is his name?"
He panted softly, licking his lips to answer, "B...Brian."
She drew in her breath and took his wrist that she still had grasped in her
hand and wrenched it away from the door, then brought it back with a force
she didn't know she possessed, slapping the door with a BOOM in the quiet
hallway.
"BRIAN!"
Brian sprang up in his bed, a voice screaming his name, a loud thump on his
door. The voice sounded like Nick's but softer and terrified.
She didn't know how much longer she could keep him up on his feet. They
were both so weak.
Suddenly the door opened and Nick swayed, nearly following the door. His
hands dangled at his side, one arm dripping blood from a gash that traveled
two inches up his arm towards his elbow. His shirt and jeans soaked in his
own blood. His eyes met Brian's for a split second before his legs gave way
a final time from underneath him, all of his strength gone.
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