In Striking Distance

Chapter Ten | Header

THEA RUSHED FORWARD and collapsed on the floor next Orson's body.

"No, no, no," she muttered. "This can't be happening."

Should she call 911 first, or check for a pulse? Her mind was flooded with too many thoughts. Her fingers crept towards Orson's body, but she paused, she should call 911, and check for a pulse at the same time. Yes, that seemed like the most reasonable course of action.

Thea dug her fingers into her pocket but came empty handed. Where was her phone the one time she needed it! Why wasn't on her? Her blurry eyes tracked the bathroom floor and she saw the purple case on the white tiles by the door. She must have dropped it when she saw first saw Orson.

She tried pushing off the floor but couldn't get up. Her knees were too shaky. In a desperate move, she crawled across the floor keeping an eye on Orson. She dialed 911, putting her phone on speakerphone before crawling back towards him.

Her fingers shook as she pressed two fingers to his wrist. His arms were limp, and she couldn't feel a pulse. Tears rushed to her eyes and her head was pounding loudly. "No, you can't be fucking dying Orson."

"911 what is your emergency?"

"I have a 27-year-old male and he isn't—breathing," she choked out the last few words as another wave of tears made its way down her face.

The operator was calm on the other end, "Where are you located?"

Thea rattled off her address and the operator continued, "Have you checked his neck for a pulse? Sometimes, it is hard to feel a pulse on the wrist."

Thea shakingly moved her fingers to his neck, deep in his scratchy beard. Blood was rushing to her head, and she couldn't feel anything. Was he still breathing?

"Take a deep breath dear," the emergency operator's clear voice came through the room.

Thea did as she was commanded, and exhaled a gasp, "He's breathing," she said with relief.

"Good, the paramedics on their way, but I need you to assess if there are any other injuries that may need attention."

Thea's gaze scanned Orson's body, he seemed so pale. Her fingers brushed his hair, and a sticky substance came up to her fingers.

It was blood, she realized in horror.

Her gasp was loud enough that the operator caught it. "What is it?"

She didn't speak for a moment, merely tilted his head slightly. Underneath where his head was, her bathroom tiles were crimson.

Her voice shook, "He's bleeding from the back of his head."

"I need you to grab something, like a cloth, and push it against the wound," the operators voice echoed in the bathroom. "Don't tilt his head until the paramedics get there."

Well, it was too late about the moving his head thing. She'd already done that. Thea grabbed the white towel hanging on the metal rack. It didn't seem like the cleanest object, but it would serve its purpose. She gently pressed it against Orson's head, praying that the paramedics would get there soon.

She'd vowed to kill him earlier when she'd smelt the weed in her apartment, but he might have done the job himself tonight.

"Are you still there?"

Thea nodded, and then realized that the operator couldn't see her. "Yes," she croaked.

"Good, you're doing great. The paramedics are coming up. If you haven't opened the door yet, now would be a good time."