![]() The scene in Tristan's bedroom was nothing short of a nightmare. The last time James had seen him, he looked like he was in pain, but nothing like this. James tugged at his collar, it felt like the room was twelve million degrees. Celsius. The air was thick with the faint, sickly sweet scent of blood and death that only he could smell. Tristan lay in the bed, his eyes open and glossy, but clearly not seeing. Small ribbons of blood trickled from one ear and his right nostril. He was flushed, a shock of red fever splashed against his ordinarily alabaster face. The sight was enough to shock even Emily - she couldn't believe how rapidly his condition had deteriorated in just the last few minutes.
His voice was a hoarse whisper, cracking on the word 'still'. No one answered. Tristan closed his eyes, setting free a blood red tear from his left eye. Suddenly something in Emily awakened. Her heart started pounding furiously, the sound deafening in her head.
As Mary reached for her keys, Emily looked at her, frowning. Emily: "And Mary is NOT driving. On second thought, James- call an ambulance."
Mary stepped back, relieved at finally having someone listen to her. Now she could get out of the way and let the professionals do their job when they finally arrived. Markus ran downstairs to flag the ambulance down to save precious seconds that could make the difference between continuing existance and death.
Emily: "Tristan, sweetie?" Her voice was hardly a whisper, nearly inaudible even to herself. James had finished his call to 911 and looked sharply toward Emily.
James: "Emily?" |






Comments
I had a dream last night that Tristan killed himself.. pretty weird huh?