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She’s going to be okay. Because she has to be. There are no other options.
I yank my phone off the bedside table and run down the hall to the linen closet where Rae keeps some super thick period underwear, calling Sarah as I do.
“Aaron, what’s wrong?”
“How did you—”
“She’s my sister. I’ve been sick all morning. What’s wrong?”
“I woke up to her covered in blood. She changed her pad in the middle of the night, but it’s everywhere.”
“Is she conscious?” Sarah yells.
“Yes, but she’s pale.”
“Joel, wake up,” she says away from the phone. “Get her to the hospital. Call them when you’re on the way and tell them you’re coming. We’ll meet you there. I’ll call my parents. Just focus on her.”
“I will.” I grab a pair of the underwear and turn to shut the door, but my hand freezes on the side of it before I do. “Sarah, what do you think is wrong?”
She’s quiet for a moment before finally saying, “I’m not sure.”
I’m pretty confident that’s a lie, but I don’t have time to debate it right now or think of anything else. I need to get Rae to the hospital.
“Aaron, go.”
“Talk to you soon.”
I hang up and shove my phone in my pocket, then hurry back to our bedroom. On the way back to the bed, I stop at my dresser, grabbing a T-shirt for myself and a pair of shorts. I pull out one of my undershirts and a pair of sweats for Rae, then walk back over to the bed. Rae’s leaning against her pillows, eyes closed and tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Beautiful?”
Her eyes flash open. “I’m scared.” I lean over and wrap my arms around her. “I know. But I’m going to take care of you. We’re going to the hospital, and they’ll help you.” I say the same words I keep repeating in my head because I am fucking terrified, but there is no time for that. “Do you think you can sit up?”
She nods. “I think.”
“I’ll help you.”
Wrapping my arm around her back, I adjust her so she’s sitting up, but she almost instantly grabs my arm.
“Oh crap. I’m so dizzy.”
“Okay, um…” I look around. “Lay back against the pillows.”
I run into the attached bath and grab a towel and a wet washcloth. Running back into the room, I pull the covers all the way off, lift her up, and slide the towel underneath her butt. I clean as much of her legs as I can, then pull the underwear with the pad she was wearing off. There’s so much blood it gets all over my hands, but I can’t think about that now. I put the padded underwear on her, then change her shirt. Once that’s done, I climb onto the edge of the bed, then position her between my legs, holding her in place as I put the pants on her. I move her over to my side of the bed, then quickly get changed. I grab another towel for the car ride, then scoop her into my arms, leaving the messy, bloody bed behind us. I have no idea how I’m going to clean that, but I can’t worry about it now.
Get her to the hospital.
I grab my wallet and chuck it in her purse, then grab hoodies for both of us with one hand, never setting her down. She leans against me, clutching my shirt and burrowing into my chest.
“So dizzy,” she mutters.
“I know, babe. I know. You can close your eyes in the car.”
I don’t bother locking the door or anything else, I just quickly and carefully carry her over to my truck. This is officially the second-worst reason I’ve ever carried her like this.
Once she’s in the truck, I grab the garbage can and shove it between her legs, just in case. Then I climb into the driver’s side. I take one deep breath before starting it, reminding myself I have to stay calm now.
Focus. Drive safe. Get her to the hospital.
