nishka//loki (nishka) wrote in paxletalelogs, @ 2017-03-13 09:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | apollo, coyote, freyr, loki |
Every day I crucify myself
Who: Nish, Chris, Rafael, Lucas
What: Nishka is rushed to the hospital after a suicide attempt.
Where: Nish’s apartment, LA County Hospital
When: Late Monday afternoon/evening after this thread.
Jessica checked her phone again for the hundredth time, staring at the long line of increasingly desperate sounding text messages she’d sent to Nishka over the past 8 hours. She’d arrived to work on Monday to find the place empty, no evidence that Nish had been there, no messages, nothing moved since they both left on Friday. It wasn’t that weird to her, sometimes Nish liked to sleep in, or take an impromptu day off, so she texted her just to find out which one this was and went on about her day. And then again, and again.
But by 4pm she was really starting to worry. Nish was always very prompt with letting her know if she wouldn’t be in, for whatever reason. This was not like her at all.
Chewing on her pen, she reread all of her texts, and then started looking around for contact numbers, finding to her surprise that she didn’t have any beyond her cell phone. A sense of dread was starting to take over now - Nish lived alone, if something happened to her there’d be no one around to know. Making a split second decision, she started thumbing through Nish’s client contacts, discounting each name until she got to one, dialing it immediately. They were friends outside of work. If anyone knew what was going on, he would.
“Hi Chris?” she asked when the phone picked up. “I’m sorry to bother you, this is Jessica at Nishka’s office...I was just...I was wondering if you’d seen her?” She tried not to sound too nervous, but did a terrible job.
Chris was half asleep on his couch, catching a quick nap before he had to be out and about again. Jessica's voice was familiar, her question hurried and muddlesome in his mind. Slanted brows met in the middle of his forehead, trying to comprehend what she'd asked.
"What? No. I mean, a few days ago. Look, this really isn't a good time..." His voice was thick, sleep-laden, unsure. He still felt bad about the things he'd said, and no one in his gang seemed any the wiser about what had happened with Nish's journal entries. It wasn't like they frequented the building, as far as he knew. One hand rose to wipe at his face.
Jessica sighed in frustration, her fingers worrying a piece of paper on her desk. “It’s just...she didn’t come into work today. I haven’t heard from her since Friday...I’m starting to worry. This isn’t like her.” She paused, biting her lip, “I’m sorry, I just...I didn’t know who else to call.”
Chris moved to sitting on his futon, body slanted forward in the dim light of his apartment. He put one hand to his head, trying to rub sleep away from his eyes.
"Where's the last place you saw her? Or heard from her, I guess." He struggled to make himself feel more present, the phone scraping against his skin as he stood with his cane, making his way across his apartment.
“At work on Friday...she was going out to dinner with her boyfriend.” It was automatic, because she’d been running it through her head all day. “I’ve been texting her all day, and I even tried calling but her phone is off. She never misses a day of work, not without texting me first.” She checked her watch, “it’s almost four o’clock and I still haven’t heard from her.” She was trying hard to keep the panic out of her voice but the longer she was on the phone the more worried she was getting.
The sound of splashing water could be heard as Chris made his way into the bathroom to try and wake himself up. He had listened to Jess's explanation quietly, finally only heaving an annoyed sigh at the end.
"I'll go up to her apartment and see if she's there." And I could contact Rafe, maybe she's with him, which would be just wonderful, he thought grimly. He prayed that Nish was just sleeping off a hangover in her apartment and he wouldn't have to interact with her beau. A simple, short interaction that would leave him with the rest of his day unmolested.
“Thank you so much!” Jessica said, relief washing over her. “Please let me know if she’s okay, you can call me on this number, it’s my cell.”
After nodding an affirmative, Chris detached himself from the phone, finished some kind of morning routine to wake himself up and threw on a fresh shirt. He changed from his cane to his brace, lurched to the kitchen for a banana and then started making his slow but constant way out of his apartment and down the hall. His mind ran through scenarios: Nish was with Rafe, in his apartment on the first floor, so caught up in their relationship that she'd forgotten about work. Nish was at the courthouse, and had simply forgotten to give Jess an update. Nish was sleeping off a hangover in her apartment. There were a million reasons why Nish hadn't been heard from, and though he was incredibly hesitant to show face at her apartment after the way he'd acted over the weekend, he'd do what he said he'd do.
As the elevator doors dinged open on the fifth floor, Chris was holding a banana peel and limping in the direction of 502, which thankfully wasn't terribly far. He had his phone in his pocket, but a physical meeting would be better. He knocked, and waited. Knocked again, and waited. After more than five minutes passed, he would have been certain that she wasn't home, but an odd thought pushed him to try the doorknob. It turned, which was the first red flag. Nish didn't seem like the type to leave her door unlocked on purpose; Chris pushed the door in tentatively.
"Nish?" He took a step into the dark apartment, eyes darting from the hallway to the kitchen entrance, over to the living room. "Nish, you home? You're freaking Jess out. Hello?"
Nish was lying facedown on the couch, still in her pajamas from when Chris visited two days ago. An empty bottle of aspirin lay on the floor below her open hand, an empty bottle of vodka on the coffee table right next to a CD case with the last dusting of white powder and a razor blade. Candles had long since drown in their own wax. Bear was curled up on the couch by her feet sleeping, haven given up on trying to wake her. Some time ago her body had tried to expel the chemicals that were slowly killing it, and now it stained the pillow under her cheek. Her cell phone was on the coffee table, turned off with the battery yanked out of it. She didn’t respond to Chris pounding on her door, or opening it, or calling her name. Her skin was ashen, burning up. And she was barely breathing.
Chris moved further into the living room, eyes going wide at the sight before him. He muttered a curse in Spanish, pulling his phone out of his pocket and nearly dropping it as he quickly dialed 911.
He limped forward, coming to a half-crouch, half-kneel by the couch as he pushed Nish with both arms to her side, away from the vomit. Bear hissed, unhappy to have been disturbed, and jumped down from the couch. Chris paid him no mind.
"I need an ambulance," Chris said into the phone, gently shaking Nish. "Nish? Nish, I need you to wake up. Yes," he said to the call center operator he could hear on the other side. "Yes, I need paramedics, I think my friend overdosed." He rattled off the Pax Letale address, rising to his feet as he tried to move Nish onto her back and fumbled. She didn’t move, didn’t wake up, but shifted limply where he repositioned her.
The operator kept Chris on the phone, asking him questions about her condition and issuing instructions until the ambulance arrived. Is she breathing, is she responsive, what did she take, how much?
Five minutes later three paramedics found their way down the hall, two coming into the apartment and one setting up the stretcher in her front hall. One of them immediately zeroed in on Nish, assessing her condition and giving her CPR.
The other pulled Chris away from her, off to the side. “You’re the friend who called?” he asked, glancing at his notes from the dispatcher, “Chris?” He shifted, trying to block Chris’ view to keep his attention on him and not on what the other two paramedics were doing behind him, speaking in slightly quieter voices to each other as they worked. One was busy intubating Nish to keep her breathing while the other was prepping her to be lifted onto the stretcher.
“I’ll need to ask you a few questions,” he said, flipping to a fresh page so he could jot down answers. One of the paramedics behind him was now looking around the living room, picking up the empty bottle and spying the other evidence on the coffee table. “I’m gonna need her name, her age...is there any family we should call?”
Sadly enough, this wasn't Chris's first rodeo with paramedics. He only glanced twice at what the ones behind him were doing -- trying to resuscitate Nish's prone form on the couch -- before centering his attention and where he could be most effective.
"Nishka Bariss," he said to the first, spelling it out. "I...I don't know how old she is, or her family. She's...there's a boyfriend, he lives here in this building. Oh, shit, I need to call her workplace." His phone was in hand, and he quickly texted Jess.
Don't freak, though he knew those words would immediately send a panic through the young woman, found Nish, called paramedics. Will give more details when I can.
He glanced back at the paramedic. "I don't have her boyfriend's number, but I know where lives? Or..."
"If you can just give us his name, we can contact him. Do you know someone who would be familiar with her medical history?"
Chris shook his head, slowly answering a few more questions as he saw the paramedics behind this one moving Nish carefully to a backboard, using counts of three to move her now breathing but still unconscious form.
"Is she going to be all right?"
"We're going to do everything we can," the paramedic assured him, which he knew for the non-answer that it was. He could feel his phone buzzing in his hand, more than likely Jessica calling to get more than the barebones information he'd sent her.
Jessica had been waiting in the office with her cell phone clutched in her hands waiting for Chris to call her back when it buzzed in her hands. Immediately after reading his text she hit the call button, holding the phone to her ear so hard it hurt. “Chris?” she said when she heard him pick up. “What’s going on? Why did you call the paramedics? Is she okay? What can I do?” she barely took a breath in all that time, and despite his text, was most assuredly freaking.
Chris lingered in the hallway as the paramedics wheeled Nish toward the elevator. It seemed like they'd stabilized her for the moment, and he thought they would probably have to pump her stomach at the ER, but he was going to be as light on details as possible, if only for Jessica's sanity.
"Just...just breathe, OK? I found her in her apartment. She did something, but she's gonna be OK. They're taking her to the hospital now. Do you have her family's contact information? They need to talk to someone who's familiar with her medical history."
Jessica nearly fell getting out of her chair, racing towards Nish’s office. “Uhhm...I don’t know...I know she has a brother in Illinois...wait a minute.” She paused, racing back to her desk and shifting files. “She just signed a new Power of Attorney on Friday...she asked me and that weird guy at her building to witness.” She pulled the file out of the pile and flipped it open.
“Oh my god I found her brother’s phone number...she told me she took him out as first place and put him as the backup because he lives out of State. Right now her Power of Attorney is...Rafael Atala? He’s the one the doctors are going to want to talk to.” She didn’t know the name, so she had no way of knowing it was actually the boyfriend she’d heard so much about.
Fuck my life, Chris thought, head rolling back on his shoulders as his eyes closed. "OK. I know him. I can get a hold of him. That's it though. Can you handle the office by yourself?"
Jessica hesitated for a moment, looking around the office as if it would suddenly fill with people. “I think so,” she said. “I’ll just tell people she’s sick.” She paused, at a loss for a moment, and then kicking back into work mode. “Hey, the doctor’s going to want to see the POA; If you want to pick it up I’ll wait around until you come by.” She wouldn’t do this for any other client, but she knew Nish would be okay with it, they were friends, after all. As she was talking she started neatly folding up the paper and stuffing it in an envelope for him.
"Yeah, I'll be there soon." He clicked off the line with Jess and moved to dial a number he didn't think he would ever dial again; Rafe's name lingered in his contact list, unerased and forgotten for the most part until his finger moved to tap it and dial.
He brought the earpiece up, waiting for Rafe to answer.
Rafael answered on the second ring. His greeting was muffled, as though the speaker brushed too close to his mouth. In the background, the steady stream of a television's white noise carried through. He tried again, having checked the phone's display and found himself equal parts curious and confused. "Chris? What's up?"
A long moment went by, and Chris squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to speak.
"Are you sitting down?" He waited for an affirmative, hearing concern mirrored in his own voice. "Nish is in the hospital. She overdosed. I don't know if you know, but she was using." He hurried forward, before Rafe could ask any questions. "I found her, called 911, she's in the ambulance now on her way. She gave you her power of attorney."
Rafael swore, but it was clear by his voice he was already moving. Another scratch sounded against the receiver as clothing moved across it. He had too many questions and not enough time; he slammed and locked the apartment door as he asked what few he could.
"Which hospital? Are you still there? Do I need to get a bag for her, or...?"
"I didn't go. But I have to swing by her office. Yeah, a bag would be good. I'm... I'm still outside her apartment. LA County is where they took her." The fact that he hadn't ridden along in the ambulance niggled at him in the back of his mind, but he knew it for the better option that it was. If she said something about her source, he'd be in deep shit before he could blink. After the journal, he wasn't sure he could trust her to keep that kind of information to herself, her career choice notwithstanding. "But yeah. That's it." His throat suddenly went dry, and he tried to unsuccessfully swallow.
Rafe latched onto the one bit of good news Chris could offer. His footfalls echoed through the lobby; he was clearly headed outside already. "If you're here and her apartment's open, can you get her a bag? I really need to be there. And feed Bear?" His voice went thready, and nearly broke. "Please, Chris."
Chris swallowed back an exasperated sigh, but nodded before realizing he needed to verbalize his agreement. "Yeah, I can take care of it. I'll meet you at the hospital. If that works."
"Mmhm." A car door slammed. "Thanks, Chris. I'll make it up to you." Rafael ended the call without another word, his mind firmly elsewhere.