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What the hell has he done?
36
EDEN
Samuel moans, and it’s loud enough to wake me from my sleep.
I force my eyes open and tap the bedside table several times, searching for my phone. The room is pitch black. I assume it’s around two o’clock, the time he usually wakes me with his nightmares—2:20 a.m.
Sliding closer, I rest an arm on his chest and whisper, “You’re safe.”
Over the past few months, I have done this countless times while still half asleep.
I don’t wake him. I’m sending a message to his subconscious to reassure he’s with me and everything is going to be fine. Only tonight his moans were different.
And he’s unusually cold.
Coming out of the daze, I palm his forehead. It’s like he’s been out in the snow. Reaching under the covers, I pat his inner thigh, a place of warmth only like the rest of him, there isn’t enough flesh on his bones, and it raises a red flag.
I spring upright and switch on the bedside lamp.
Samuel is lying on his back, pale. Each breath comes with a low grunt.
The room tilts in a moment of panic, and I remind myself to breathe.
“Samuel,” I say louder and press his shoulder.
No response.
“Samuel,” I shout and shake him.
He groans yet doesn’t wake.
I race out of the bedroom and bang on his parents’ door.
“Christopher,” I shout. “There’s something wrong with Samuel. Please come and check on him.”
I only make it a few steps before the door swings open to Christopher who’s tying the cord of his robe around his waist. “I noticed he struggled with dinner.” He runs a hand through his disheveled gray hair.
“It’s not the food.” I scurried toward our room, and he’s right behind me.
He leans over Samuel and listens for a breath, then lays a finger on his neck pulse point.
“Call 911,” he says in a low voice, even though I sense he’s anything but calm.
“It’s triple zero in Australia.” I grab my phone.
“What emergency service are you requiring?” the operator asks.
“Ambulance,” I blurt out.
It feels like an eternity before they connect. The medical operator asks me to describe his condition.
I emphasize how cold he is, and I can’t wake him. I give my address and activate the speaker so Christopher can hear the directions.
Christopher arranges the bedding so more is covering Samuel.
“Does he have a pulse?”
