Page 168 of Theirs to Ruin

Did he fall and hit his head? I ran my hands over his head and body. No sign of any kind of injury. Had he had a heart attack like Ava had? Been poisoned?

That’s when I spotted the bottles of pills on his desk. So many bottles.

“God damn it, Ty. Why?” I screamed, my voice breaking.

Memories surged forward like a tidal wave. My mom had popped pills constantly but after she went to rehab for the third time, it seemed to take. She hadn’t been using drugs, and she was more present, happier. Except when I fought with my dad. And it was after she’d told me the fighting made her life harder that I found her lying on her bed, her eyes wide open and vacant, a bottle of pills in her hand.

The image was seared into my brain. That day, I felt a wrenching void, an indescribable pain of loss mixed with helpless rage.

I felt the same pain and rage now.

“Damn it, Ty, don’t you do this!”

My stomach churned, my vision blurred, and my breaths came out in short, ragged gasps. I stared at Ty’s face, remembering happier times, including a day we went for gelato and he told me it was his only vice, along with me, and that he’d never done drugs and rarely drank.

The memory snapped me out of my paralysis.

“No, no, no,” I muttered. I whipped out my phone, fingers trembling as I dialed 911.

"911, what's your emergency?"

“I think my friend overdosed on pills.”

“What kind of pills?”

I scrambled to his desk. Several bottles were open and random pills had spilled out. “There are so many bottles here. Different pills. I’m not sure what he took.”

“Is he breathing? Does he have a pulse?”

“Yes. I checked when I first found him.”

“Check again.”

I rushed back to Ty. To my horror, he wasn’t breathing and I couldn’t find his heartbeat.

“No!” I screamed. My lungs seized and I was suddenly struggling to breath. “No, no, no.” CPR! Every student was trained in CPR their first year.

I dropped the phone and began compressions, every push fueled by my own voice. I alternated pumping his chest with breathing into his mouth again and again. “Damn it, Ty! Fucking breathe!”

Seconds felt like hours even as the oppressive weight of déjà vu pressed down on my own lungs. I started crying, remembering how I’d tried to revive my mother.

But then… Ty coughed and his chest convulsed as he struggled to breathe. I stopped pumping and sat back, watching as color returned to his face.

“Oh, thank God! Thank God!”

Ty’s eyes fluttered open, his gaze hazy, his expression confused.

I sagged in relief but was quickly consumed by tears and full body shudders. The rawness of my mother’s loss collided with the knowledge Ty had almost died, and the combination was gut-wrenching.

The sound of sirens grew progressively louder, cutting through the tense silence.

Ty had closed his eyes.

"Ty? Can you hear me?" I willed him to speak but he remained silent.

A minute later, he opened his eyes. He still didn’t speak, but he tried to move. I gently placed one hand on his shoulder and took his hand in my other one. “You’re okay, you’re okay. Just lie back. Rest until they come.”

Obediently, Ty relaxed back, but he didn’t take his eyes off me.

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