Page 140 of The Perfect Love

She’s sitting numbly on her bed now, watching some sitcom rerun, and I don’t know what else to do. I want to text Chelsea. Want to call in a lifeline. But everything feels like the wrong decision now, and I’m panicking. But I don’t want her to see that.

So I check to make sure she has water. Try to get her to eat something, even though she refuses. Then sit back down next to her, everything inside me screaming that I have to fix it, but I don’t know how. Fuck, I have no idea how.

I should’ve done something more. I fucking failed her.

“Can you try to take a deep breath for me?” a paramedic says, but I’m looking past her, into the bathroom where I found Hyla on the floor, blood seeping from her wrists.

I don’t say the words I want to. That I’m not important now, and they should be taking care of her. But my face must say it anyway.

The paramedic rests a hand on my arm. “They’re taking good care of her. She was still breathing on her own. That’s a good sign. Is there anything you need? A glass of water? Is there someone you can call?”

I already called my mom. I called 911 from Hyla’s phone, then called my mom from mine afterward. She’s on her way over, but at this point, it might be better for her to meet us at the hospital.

And… even if she got here, she’s not the person who can make it better. Not better, but I need… I need Chelsea.

I look down at my phone, then back at the bathroom.

“Make the call,” the paramedic says. “She’s in good hands.”

Good is relative, but I reluctantly step away, sink down onto Hyla’s couch and dial Chelsea.

She answers on the first ring.

“Hey, baby. How was last night? I’ve been thinking of you, but didn’t want to go crazy texting.”

Fuck. How do I say this?

“Babe?” Her voice rises with concern, and the fragile threads holding me together threaten to snap.

“Chels…”

“What happened?”

“It went really bad. I stayed at Hyla’s with her. Then this morning, I woke up to noise in the bathroom, and”—my voice breaks—“she slit her wrists. She’s alive, but—”

“I’m on my way. When you know what hospital, tell me. I’ll be there the second I can.”

“Drive safe. Please, please drive safe.”

Because I can’t lose her. I can’t. I fucking can’t. It will destroy me.

“I will. I love you. This wasn’t your fault.”

It sure fucking feels like it was. Like I should’ve seen it coming, been able to stop it.

When I don’t respond, her voice comes through loud and strong.

“It was not your fault. Don’t take that on. Breathe. Take everything as it comes today, and I’ll be there soon.”

“I love you, baby.”

“Do you want me to stay on the phone with you? Or call anyone else?”

“No. That’s okay. Focus on driving. I… fuck, I should call someone. Maybe Mackenzie.” Though the thought of telling her makes me want to vomit.

The paramedics come out of the bathroom with Hyla unconscious on a stretcher.

“I’ve got to go. I’ll see you soon.”

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