Okay

.59.

Luke "Coach Mo" Morrison

Wiping the sweat from my face, I let myself sink into the mat I've been stretching on for the past ten minutes. I feel good, running off a high from a strenuous workout.

I needed it, stress was starting to clamp down on me but I can breathe a little easier, see a little clearer.

Rolling off the mat, I go through the motions of wiping it down before I put it away and walk to the ledge where I left my phone and water.

Clicking the screen on, water halfway to my lips my heart drops to the pit of my stomach.

The second I see the missed call from him all the stress and worry that I worked off hits my body like a wave. I sprint out the door, leaving all my stuff behind as I call him back. It's been less than ten minutes. Surely he'll answer.

But he doesn't and by the time I'm in my truck I'm calling 911. Screaming hysterically at the operator to get someone to his apartment as I race the clock there myself.

It feels like it takes days, like every person in the world is purposefully trying to slow me down as I race through the streets. The operators still in my ear, asking me questions that thankfully come automatically.

"Someone needs to be there now!" I bark at the woman.

She assures me that an ambulance is dispatched but it does little to reassure me. My tires squeak and chirp against the concrete as I slam on the brakes, my truck sliding to the front doors of the apartment complex.

I beat everyone. Leaping from my car, the operator still on the phone but my sole focus is getting to Drew. I plow through anyone that's in my way, sprinting up the ten flights of stairs in a frantic mess. I don't even think about his door being locked until I'm pushing through it.

It slams against the wall, my eyes sweeping the room. And there he is. The sight is enough to make my knees buckle but somehow I manage to stay erect.

"Drew!"

I rush to him, his body still from where it's suspended from the ceiling.

"I'm here! Please god! Drew!"

I can't think straight, my mind a blur of thoughts as I try to figure out how to get him down when I spot the blade of a knife by a pile of shredded fabric. Reaching for it, I grab a turned over chair and climb on it, sawing at the fabric.

"Oh god, stay with me Drew."

It only takes a few swipes before the hairs of the fabric start to give way under his weight.

"Come on Drew. Stay with me." I beg, throwing the knife to the side and pulling him to me.

His weight causes me to stumble off the chair and I hit my knees, my grip on him not loosening.

"You're going to be okay." I sob, laying him out on the ground. Grabbing at the material that's wrapped around his neck, I will my thoughts to pull up CPR. "Come on son."

Pushing my palms into his chest, I push down counting under my breath.

This can't be happening.

Why the hell didn't I answer? Why isn't he breathing?

Tears flood my vision as paramedics fill the spaces around me.

"Please Drew." I gather him back into my arms ignoring the paramedics. My hands run through his blond hair, cradling him close as I plead into his ear but he's lifeless in my arms. "Please son don't leave me."

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I'll be dropping the remaining chapters randomly throughout the day.