Page 3 of Letters to the Lost

‘Don’t Give Up on Me – Amber Leigh Irish’

Standing at the closed door, Autumn’s lifeless body slumped in my arms. I hold her close to my chest, refusing to let go even for a moment. The only thing reassuring me that she’s alive again is the shallow rise and fall of her chest. The blood still flowing from her wrists, drips onto the floor mixing with the tinged water steadily dripping from her clothes, creating a crimson puddle around my feet.

“Get her on the bed!” Doc orders me, as he rushes around the room, pulling out equipment and wires.

Rushing to do as he says, I place her carefully down on the sterile bed, trying not to jostle her too much.

“Tobias, you need to help me now. I need you to put pressure on her wrist, okay? Use these bandages and press down, we need to stop the blood flow.”

Doc pushes the bandages into my hands and directs them where I need to put them. Putting as much pressure on her wounds as possible, I look over her still form. Her lips are parted and have a slight blue tinge, her hair and clothes are soaked through. I never had hemophobia but the sight of red against her blonde hair was suddenly turning my stomach. I can feel how cold her skin is, from where the side of my hand rests against her palm.

Why? Why would she do this? Why would she try to leave us?

The door rattles behind me, Dominic’s muffled shouts echoing through the wood.

The beeping of a heart monitor fills the silence, wires traveling from the machine to Autumn’s chest. Assuring me she’s still here with us. My eyes flick over to Doc, where he is trying to stitch up the wounds on her right arm.

“Will she be ok?” I ask, daring to hope that the answer is yes. Doc’s good at what he does, but he deals with gunshot wounds and knife fight injuries. Not this, not intentional harm to oneself.

“I don’t know. I need to stop the bleeding on her wrists, then we need to rush her to the hospital to get her stomach pumped, if she has any chance of surviving this.”

I can’t lose her, I just can’t. She’s become my entire world in just eight months. I won’t survive this life without her, and neither will my brothers. Nothing is worth it, not without her.

My hands are shaking, fear running through my body as I look over her tiny frame. We could lose her. If I hadn’t checked on her, when would we have found her? She might have been gone by the time we did.

A long-drawn-out tone fills the room, and Autumn’s chest stops rising.

“She’s flatlining!” Doc shouts as he begins CPR on my girl. All I can do is stare blankly as he works, tears splashing onto my hands as I hold the now-soaked bandages in place.

A roar of anguish comes from the hallway, then a repetitive banging against the door, like a body is throwing itself at it repeatedly. Ignoring all of that, I focus on my girl, urging her to stay with us, promising her the world.

“Please Babygirl, please don’t leave me. I need you. Come back to me baby, come back and I’ll give you anything you want, I swear it,” I beg her, removing one of my hands from my hold on the bandaged wrists. I bring my blood-soaked hand to her face, stroking away her wet hair. Leaving a streak of blood across her forehead, I can’t stop touching her, scared that if I let go, she’ll stop fighting.

I know the others will be losing their minds, but I can’t bring myself to care. All I care about is the girl in front of me, as her blood slowly seeps out from the bandages compressing her wrists. Grabbing more, I replace the now sodden ones, dropping them to the floor with an audible plop. Blood splattered across the tile. So much blood.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The sound nearly brings me to my knees as it fills the room once again, stronger this time. Doc looks like he’s aged fifteen years.

He finishes with the stitches on her right arm, then makes his way around to my side.

“You did good son, let me take over now. You go hold your girl’s hand,” Doc claps my shoulder, gently nudging my hands out of the way and taking over, ready to start the process all over again on this side. Making my way round to her other side, I hold her hand gently, trying not to disturb her new stitches. Flicking my eyes to the heart monitor again, I will myself to calm down for her sake before I spiral into a panic.

Banging still comes from the door, the hinges rattling as the handle shakes. Dominic won’t stop until he can see her with his own eyes.

Forcing myself away from Autumn, I walk over to the door and unlock it, stepping out before Dominic can barge his way in. Doc needs to focus, and Dominic is too worked up to be in there.

Dominic flies at me, trying to get to the door, but I grab him by his

shoulders, using all my strength to get him to stop.

“She’s alive Dominic! She’s alive but you need to stop,” I shout in his face, trying to get through to him, “Doc can’t focus with all the banging on the door.”

“I need to see my Cupcake. I need to see her,” he cries, his blue eyes that are normally filled with mischief are now heartbroken, new shadows filling them. Just like all of ours will have.

I don’t think we’ll ever get over finding our girl like that, lifeless in the bathtub, water that was as red as blood, surrounding her still body.

“I know you do but Doc is stitching her up, then we need to get her to the hospital. He said she needs her stomach pumped.”

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