Lost In Your Footsteps

Deep Breath

~Keaton~

I heard a sudden thud as a turned to go back into the kitchen to help Mom. My eyes followed the sound to find Andrew gone.

"Andrew?" I wandered to where he once stood. He was just standing there what the hell.  On the floor, I find him trembling with his eyes shut.

"ANDREW!" I jumped for his body, dropped on my knees, and positioned his head in my lap.

 "MOM CALL THE AMBULANCE SOMETHINGS ' WRONG."

Mom ran for the home phone in the hallway after a quick glance at Andrew and started calling the hospital. My dad scurried over to the other side of the table where I sat on the floor next to Andrew's body holding his head somewhat still.

"Let's get em' in the truck I can get him there faster than the ambulance will." I looked Andrew up and down familiar with what he was going through. I nodded my head and stood up, bending down to hook my arm under his back and his legs in my other arm. I held him tightly, thankful he was as light as my 7-year-old brother.

My dad opened the back seat door, helping me get in without putting Andrew down. Mom ran out of the house with her purse and jacket hopping in the passenger seat.

"They know we're on the way there," Mom whispered. Dad nodded pealing out of the driveway and in the direction of the hospital.

"Keaton I'm not sure where he came from before you brought him home but he reminds me of someone else," She sighed. "I'm sure you know better than any of us." She grabbed the review mirror and adjusted it so she could see me. Our eyes spoke volumes to each other. 

She noticed it too.

"We can't let him go back to where he came from. Whether he wants to tell us what happened or not he can't go back." I don't care if that isn't a choice I can make. I've been seeing the signs since I found him. Clearly, his past life didn't treat him too kindly.

There were small signs. Like how sometimes he'd randomly lose his breath and start counting to four. Or how he'd start shaking and he'd bounce his foot up and down. On a couple of occasions, I've seen him flinch when mom or dad would call for us or myself. Those, however, were small things he did frequently.

One afternoon when I came home early from school I caught him changing his shirt in our room. When I saw his bareback I stopped myself from walking into the bedroom any further and quietly turned around.

I waited downstairs anxiously thinking about what I saw and trying to decide if I should say anything or not. He was just starting to get a little more comfortable sharing a room with me and I didn't want to give him a reason not to feel comfortable enough to change his shirt.

He came downstairs moments later politely greeting me home. He had no idea I'd seen his back.

Now here I was holding him while he choked unconsciously and shook in my arms.

I feel like complete shit. I should have said something. Maybe If I said something I could have prevented this.

We arrived at the hospital pulling up next to the roundabout labeled 'EMERGENCY' above the massive glass double doors. The doctors rushed up to the car greeting my dad before helping me put Andrew down on the stretcher.

"He's in good hands I swear." The doctor clasping down the safety latches met my eyes. "Just judging by looking at him, he's having an anxiety attack."

"I know." I watched as the doctors communicated with one another rushing Andrew to a room as soon as possible.

We all got back in the car to find an appropriate parking spot. All around the waiting room you could see families sleeping, speaking to someone on the phone, or crying. My dad and I took a seat, my mom walking up to the desk. She spoke with the lady for some time pointing to my dad and me occasionally. She signed something on a clipboard and walked our way.