AFTER YOU SAVED ME // ZESSA

Chapter 4: Hardin

"Hardin?" I yell, squinting harder to make sure my eyes are not playing tricks on me.

"What did you say?" Zed asks, the sound of exasperation slightly lining his voice.

It is Hardin. I can see the distinctive tattoos on his fingers the more I stare.

"Jesus Christ," Zed mutters next to me, his eyes now locked on Hardin as well.

Just then, I see Hardin retch as clear liquid spews from his lips and onto the blacktop, before his face turns up towards the sky and I can no longer see his blue eyes staring back at mine.

Before I it, I feel my feet running.

"Tessa, what are you doing!" Zed shouts.

I don't know what I'm doing. All I know is I must get to Hardin. He looks...dead.

"Hardin!" I yell, pausing briefly to look both ways before darting across the road.

"Tessa, wait!" Zed shouts, running after me but getting stuck by traffic as the light turns green and the cars block his way.

"Hardin!" I shout again, finally approaching his lifeless body.

I crouch down next to him and look him up and down. He is wearing his signature black t-shirt and black jeans – except now they are covered in a thick, sickening puke. Though the stench of stomach acid permeates the air, it is accompanied by the familiar scent of alcohol.

I cover my mouth, not wanting to be sick as well. Looking back to his face, I see his eyes, half open half closed, completely lifeless. Craning over him to get a better look without kneeling in his pile of sick, I quickly slap my hands together to jar him out of his hypnotized like trance.

He barely reacts, his eyes barely twitching as his body remains lifeless.

"Hardin! Look at me!" I shout, but there is no reaction. I feel my eyes well with tears as I try to remain calm. Sure, it's Hardin, the guy who I was positive I would never want to see again, but that doesn't mean I want him to die. I mean... I used to love this boy.

Reaching for the phone in my purse, I quickly dial 911 as I hear Zed's frantic feet approach.

"Tessa, what... oh shit," Zed mutters, assessing Hardin's pitiful state.

"911, what is your emergency?" a monotone voice says on the other end of the line.

"Hi! I need an ambulance. I'm at the corner of 2nd and Springfield. There's a... man here, in the alley. He's passed out in his own puke and I think he –"

Just as I begin to tell her about Hardin's suspected alcohol poisoning, I am stopped dead in my tracks as my eyes land on his pale outstretched arm – and the needle sticking out of it.

"Ma'am are you still there?" the voice asks into my ear.

"I... yes. Yes, I am here. I think he overdosed. There is a..." I choke up, barely able to get the words out as the tears spill onto my face. "There is a needle in his arm, and his eyes are not reacting."

"Help is on the way ma'am. Is he breathing?" the voice, which I now recognize as a woman's, asks.

I blink away the tears and hold the phone away from my mouth.

"Zed, is he breathing?" I ask quickly.

Zed reaches his hand down in front of Hardin's face, letting it rest just a few inches above his nose and mouth.

After a few seconds, he nods and says, "yes, but barely. It's really slow."

Uncovering the phone, I answer, "yes, but it's really slow," and wipe the tears from my face as I clear my throat.

"Okay good, the ambulance should be there in another minute or so. Do you know this man?" she asks.

I pause, swallowing hard as the words get caught in my throat.

I have a restraining order against Hardin. Am I even allowed to be near him right now? Can I get in trouble for this? I can't believe this happening right now.

You know what, it does not matter. All that matters is saving Hardin's life.

"Yes. His name is Hardin Scott. He's 20 years old," I blurt out, as I watch Zed tilt Hardin's face to the side before a small amount of vomit drips from his mouth and onto the pavement.

Just then, I hear sirens off in the distance.

"They are here! The paramedics," I say into the phone.

"Okay, you can speak with them now and I'll let you go," she answers.

"Okay," I reply, hearing the call end before I shove the phone back into my purse as the ambulance pulls up and I rise to meet them.

"He is right over here," I say, pointing to the alley, as a tall brunette man and a shorter blond man get out of the truck.

The paramedics rush over to him, quickly strapping a blood pressure cuff onto his arm and carefully removing the needle from his arm.

"He need's a hit of NARCAN," the taller paramedic shouts over his shoulder, as the blond one runs to the truck.

In a moment, he returns with a small white nasal spray that resembles something along the lines of an allergy relief medicine.

Moving to Zeds side and grabbing his hand, I watch as the men work on Hardin.

Zed wraps his arms around me and brings me to his chest as we look on in horror. I feel his hand caress my hair as he tries to calm me down, his lips pressed to my forehead.

After the paramedics remove the covering of the NARCAN, they swiftly insert it deep into Hardin's nose. Then, I hear what sounds like the spraying of liquid and within moments the paramedics remove it and wait.

It feels like hours are passing, each second a torturous moment in time as I wait for Hardin to come back to life.

Suddenly, Hardin's eyes widen, and he sucks in a deep gasp of air.

"There you go buddy," the tall paramedic says to Hardin, placing a hand on Hardin's wrist to check his pulse.

"Welcome back," the other one says, placing the used NARCAN in a trash can next to us.

I stare, my eyes as wide as the sun as I watch the color slowly return to Hardin's face.

He blinks several times, his breathing still irregular but much stronger, and looks up – his eyes locking onto mine.

"Tessa" he cries, as a tear falls from his sad blue eyes.