Serpent's Deceit (Entry 010)

 

I rush out of my house. Mom and Dad are asleep, so that is not a problem to consider now. The considerable problem is that the distance to Dax’s house is so long that I would not be able to cover it on foot. I am alone, and that area is not really a good one. Moreover, the increasing anxiety might lead me to trouble more easily than expected.

So, I call Hunter and ask him to meet me at the intersection on the main road. Among my friends, he is the best option now. He is level-headed and would not bother much. Also, he has a bicycle, so that is an advantage.

Within five minutes, we meet at the intersection. Honestly, I am surprised that he has actually come despite the short notice. He is on his cycle, feet planted to the ground as if he has just arrived. Sensing my arrival, he glances up, and his gaze almost immediately turns into a scrutinising one.

“What happened?” He asks in such a careful tone as if I would break if he raised his voice. I realise how shaky I am when I try to answer him, and my words jumble more than I intend. “Dax… is in danger… my boyfriend… I—I need to—”

He understands, luckily, what I am trying to say and the urgency behind it. With his feet already on the paddle and his hands on the handle, he just jerks his head to the back. “Hop on.”

As I get into the backseat and grip him, he almost flies out into the night streets. He does not ask any more questions other than the directions, nor does he try to comfort me. Meanwhile, I keep calling Dax's number, but it keeps bouncing back to voicemail. I keep praying to God to keep him alive at least until I reach him.

I do not know how long it takes for us to reach there. It feels like ages to me. Hunter, however, hesitates once we reach Dax's area. He stiffens, his shoulders square as if he is bracing himself for an unknown danger. He slows down slightly, eyes darting around the street for any potential risk. I understand him. However, he does not pause entirely or say anything.

After paddling past the rusty neighbourhood, narrower roads, graffiti-covered walls, piled up garbage bags and broken bottles, we stop before his door. I jump down from the cycle, nearly toppling over before straightening up and rushing inside. I keep banging on the door and shouting his name. No sounds come out from the inside. However, the lock gives in under my pressure, a perfect example of why Dax needs to move out of here. The inside is pitch black. Pushing open the door, I step inside cautiously, still calling out his name.

I find him exactly where I have expected him to be. Upstairs. In his room. On the floor.

I think I let out a scream before dropping to my knees, scraping them against the cold floor. My mind blanks for a moment. All I can focus on is him, just lying there, so still, so lifeless. Panic claws at my chest as I reach out and turn his head gently to the side with shaky hands. His hair is damp, perhaps with sweat, sticking to his forehead. I push it away to see his face. My eyes are adjusting to the darkness. That is when I see it, the faint rise and fall of his chest. He is barely breathing.

I lean in, desperately calling his name again with a softer tone, like I am afraid to scare the breath out of him. I wait for a moment, holding my breath. And then, finally, he lets out a low groan. The sound is so weak, but it is enough to make me wash over with relief. I cry out.

“Dax, are you there? Please answer me. See, I’m here.”

“Dax, wake up. Please.”

“I can’t help you if you don't tell me what’s wrong with you. Please, Dax.”

All my cries fall on deaf ears. Dax does not respond to me. He is alive, but he is not responding.

“Maybe he needs water,” I mumble, looking around like a lunatic as if water is lying there for me to take.

“Maybe he needs a doctor.” Hunter's voice comes from behind me. I glance back. A shadowy, long figure is hovering in the doorway. The darkness is so dense there that I cannot see anything better than that. That is Hunter, I assume. 

“Can you bring me water, please?” I plead because the thought of leaving Dax here and going to fetch the water is scaring me for some reason. What if…

The shadow moves away, clearing the path. I pat the sweat away from Dax's face and check if he is sweating inside his shirt. He is. Opening the top two buttons, I try to release him from the suffocation. Why is he sweating? Why is he unconscious in the first place? Is it…withdrawal?

Maybe I should bring him to bed. I look up to figure out the distance between the bed and us. I won't be able to pull him there myself, I realise. I will ask Hunter to help me.

I call him a few more times, pat his cheeks, and run my fingers through his hair. Still, no response, except the slow breathing.

The sound of echoing footsteps reaches my ear again. It continues to get closer to me until I feel someone kneeling beside me. 

“Here. Water. And I found something. Might help,” Hunter whispers, putting the bottle beside me with a strip of tablets. I eye the strip. “What's this?” I probably already know the answer.

“Sleeping pills,” Hunter answers, confirming my guess. I feel him straightening up and taking a step back. “That's withdrawal. Give him some. He should be fine by the morning.”

I take the strip in my hand to check it. I cannot even see the colour of the medicine, let alone the name. I am assuming it is not white exactly; I don’t know about the name. How has Hunter seen that it is a sleeping pill?

Dax's body feels warm in my lap. I look back up at Hunter, well, where I believe Hunter’s face is. “Are you sure? How do you even know it will work?”

He lets out a scoff. “Are you seriously asking me that?”

It clicks in my mind when he asks me that. Shame builds up in me. Seriously, how have I asked him that? If anyone knows about drugs between us, it is him. After his father died in an accident, his mom lived for nearly five months. During that time, she became involved with drugs and substances. She even died from an overdose. How did such simple knowledge leave my mind? 

“Right, sorry,” I mumble a quick apology and change the topic. “So, how much do I give him?”

He replies a moment later, “Three or four should do.”

I bite my lips, contemplating the situation, staring down at the pills in my hand. I have never taken medicine without the consultation of a doctor. I know that Dax is already abusing drugs, so it does not make that much of a difference. Moreover, sleeping pills do not actually harm that much. Still, I find myself hesitating. 

I look back at the boy I love. He does not look like he is in pain anymore. He just looks like he is sleeping peacefully. Should I actually do this to him?

I cannot tell what will do him good or what will harm him in this case. My mind just does not seem to agree with the concept.

“Help me put him in the bed,” I request Hunter after a thoughtful minute. I am staying the night with him. If his situation worsens, I will follow Hunter’s instructions.

Without a word, Hunter moves to the side and pulls Dax by his arm. Dax lets out a groan but does not physically protest. I pull him and drop his other arm over my shoulder. Together, we hobble towards the bed. The distance is not that long, but it requires at least five minutes to get Dax settled on the bed. By the time we are done, Hunter and I fall back to the ground exhausted.

“You can go home now,” I tell him over my ragged breaths. He takes a second to answer, breathing just as heavily as I am. “What about you?”

I need to start working out. How the hell am I dying just from moving a person by one or two feet of distance? I literally cannot speak over how hard I am trying to catch my breath. Somehow, I choke out a response. “I'm staying the night with him.”

“You sure? I can stay downstairs.” He is speaking more normally now. I glance at him to find him propping himself up on his palm and looking down at me. “You're alone, and the area isn't—”

“I will manage.” I interrupt him, getting up abruptly. “Go home.”

It sounds rude, but hearing him complain about the area my boyfriend lives in rubs me the wrong way. He might have protested, but my tone stops him from saying anything further. A moment later, he gets to his feet and starts walking to the door.

“If mom calls and asks about me, tell her you don't know anything,” I tell him just before his shadow disappears from the doorway.