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beatingheart-writingwoes · 3 days ago

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Choke

Story Summary and Content - 4,861 words. Featuring characters from "Slip and Fall." Josh must save Paloma when she chokes on a grape. Choking and on-site resuscitation.

A noise from another part of the house startled Josh awake. The bedroom was dark; blackout curtains were drawn closed over the windows.

Paloma, he thought, rousing himself with a stretch and a yawn.

He kicked back the blanket and climbed out of bed, padding through the house in his socked feet until he reached the kitchen. Paloma was at the sink, rinsing a bunch of grapes. He took a moment to admire the curve of her body and her long dark hair cascading down her back.

“Hey, babe,” he said, coming up behind her and sliding his hands from her sides down to her hips. “How’s Ellie?”

“Oh, I woke you!” she exclaimed, turning in his arms to cuddle against him. “You haven’t even been off shift that long. I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay, I wanted to see you.” He leaned over and kissed her.

“Mmm,” she said as the kiss ended.

“Ellie?” he nudged.

“Oh!” Paloma offered him a broad, sparkling smile. “It’s great news, she’s going home in a couple of days. She has doctor’s appointments and physical therapy, but she’ll be home!”

Josh felt the warmth of pleasure and relief in his chest. Ellie had been steadily improving since narrowly surviving the drowning accident. Physically, she had some struggles, but they’d all been relieved to discover she was still herself when she woke up. “That’s… That’s awesome, babe. Really something else.”

His eyes watered, and Paloma reached up and cupped his face in her petite hands.

“You did good. Oh!” she exclaimed, pulling back and reaching for her phone on the counter. “You’ll want to see this!”

He watched her unlock her phone and open the gallery, then she turned the phone toward him. It was a picture of Mateo and Ellie. Ellie was in her hospital bed, looking much improved, a hand pressed to her mouth. Mateo kneeled by the hospital bed, an open ring box in his hands.

“Hah!” Josh laughed, tapping the screen to keep it awake. He nodded in approval at the visible flush across Ellie’s cheeks. “He decided not to wait!”

“And look at this,” she said, swiping across the picture to open the next image.

This one was also of Ellie and Mateo, both sitting on the bed. They were beaming, Ellie with a crooked smile, her left hand extended toward the camera. Mateo held a small whiteboard, which read: “She said ‘yes!’ Thank you, Josh, park staff, and EMS!”

“Ah,” he said, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it, but I’m glad he didn’t wait! And I’m glad you woke me up with all of your banging of cabinet doors and pots and pans.”

“Hush!” Paloma rolled her eyes and turned toward the sink. She broke off a section of wet grapes from the bunch and held them out. “Want a grape?”

“I’m good, but are you by any chance putting these in chicken salad?” He waggled his eyebrows at her. Chicken salad sandwiches were one of his warm-weather favorites.

“I even bought croissants,” she said, winking. She popped a couple of grapes in her mouth.

“All sandwiches should be eaten on croissants!”

Paloma laughed, or tried to. She sucked in a breath, and he heard it stop in her throat. She spun away from him and bent over the sink, shoving her fingers in her mouth. One partially chewed grape dropped into the sink, but he didn’t hear her cough or take a breath.

“Paloma!” he called out urgently, grasping her by the shoulders.

Josh pulled her away from the sink and turned her as her hands moved to her throat. Her mouth was open, her face red, bulging eyes watering. “Shit! Babe, are you choking?!”

She nodded, her eyes darting around in a panic, a quiet clicking sound coming from her throat.

“Okay, I’m going to help you! You’ll be okay!” Josh spun her around and buried his fist above her navel, covering the fist with his other hand. Then he jerked his hands in and up, the force making Paloma double over in his arms. She clutched at him, hair spilling over her shoulders as he wrenched his hands into her abdomen again.

“Cough it up, Paloma! Come on, cough it up!” By the fourth try, he was starting to panic, and he yanked so hard he picked her up off the floor.

A fifth thrust, her struggling body weakening against his. He steadied her on her feet and braced her with his arm diagonally across her chest, his hand gripping her jaw. He bent her over and then reached toward her phone on the counter. A quick swipe up from the bottom and he opened the emergency dialer and tapped 9-1-1.

As the call rang, Josh slid his knee between Paloma’s legs and hit her in the center of her back with the heel of his hand. She was wriggling feebly in his arms, her fingers scrabbling at her throat. He hit her between the shoulders again.

“9-1-1, please state the nature of your emergency!”

“Medical!” Another smack to Paloma’s back. “I need paramedics at 555 Westover St. in Anderton, my wife is choking! I’m a firefighter with Anderton Fire Department, I’m having some difficulty clearing her airway!”

He hit her twice more with the heel of his hand and then hoicked her upright, his arms wrapping around her again. Paloma was beginning to flop around as though boneless, though when he looked at her face, her eyes were blinking and her open mouth worked, drool running down her chin. He heaved his fist into her again.

“Cough it up, baby! Jesus!”

“Sir, to confirm, you are at 555 Westover St. in Anderton and your wife is choking?”

He forced his hands into her again. “Yes! I’m performing abdominal thrusts and back blows. She’s still conscious, but that’s not going to last—”

“I have a unit headed in your direction—”

“No, no! Paloma, stay awake!” She sagged in his arms, her head tipped forward, arms dangling. He jerked his hands into her twice more and then lowered her to the cold tile floor. “Paloma! Cough it up and take a breath! Breathe!”

Her hair pooled around her head, half-lidded eyes staring up out of her purpling face. Josh tipped her head back to open her airway, extending her neck and exposing her self-inflicted scratch marks to the light. He leaned his ear over her mouth and pressed his fingers to the pulse point in her neck.

“Her pulse is rapid and thready!” he said out loud for the benefit of the operator. “She’s not breathing. I’m checking for the obstruction and then I’m going to start chest compressions.”

He opened her mouth, turning her head side to side and then reaching inside with his fingers, sweeping toward the back. “Dammit!”

Then he opened her airway again, pinched her nose, and pressed his mouth over hers. He could feel the saliva drying sticky on her chin. He tried to force breath into her lungs, but their cheeks bulged out and the air escaped with a sputtering noise. He tried one more time and then straightened up, calling out: “Her airway is still obstructed and the grape isn’t visible. I’m starting compressions now—”

“Go ahead and count to four with me,” the operator said.

Quickly finding his landmark, Josh linked his hands and then pressed the heel of his hand into her sternum. He forced her breastbone down two inches, counted out: “One!” and then released the pressure, making sure he came back up completely.

“…two, three, four, one…” the operator counted in sync with him.

Come on, babe, this is insane, please, please, please…

He’d thought performing CPR on Ellie had been frightening, but this was his wife. Her head rocked with each compression, but the slight huff of air he’d grown to expect was absent. Her eyes were still open, staring blankly into space. Further down her body, her shirt bunched up under her breasts, exposing several inches of skin. Her abdomen bulged with each compression.

He felt her cartilage give under his hands and saw the way the bottom of her ribcage bobbed with each thrust. His own throat was growing tight as he worked, his panic a coiled snake ready to strike.

“…two, three, four, one, two—How far out is the ambulance?!… three, four…”

After a short silence, the operator said: “ETA is five minutes.”

Too long. Too long without oxygen.

“I’m reassessing her airway,” he said, pausing compressions and grasping her jaw, checking again for the grape. Her mouth was empty. His voice cracked as he blurted: “Fuck, Paloma!”

In desperation, he shuffled around and straddled her hips, quickly clasping his hands back together and pressing the heel of his hand above her navel. He forced his hands into her, in and up toward her diaphragm. Her torso jerked, her head tipped to the side. He thrust his hands in again, listening for any hint of expelled air. On the third try, he heard a pressurized, wheezing cough escape her mouth. He climbed off her and scrambled around to her head.

“Hey, okay, I’ve got you…” he opened her mouth, her head still tipped to the side, and swept a whole grape out with his finger. It landed in a small puddle of draining saliva. “I’ve removed the obstruction! Giving her breaths now! Come on, babe!”

He turned her head back toward the ceiling and thrust her chin forward, noticing as he did that her lips were blue and her face was going chalky and gray. He pinched her nose and sealed his mouth over hers, blowing a deep breath into her lungs. Her mouth was slack and cool under his. The sensation made him shudder, thinking how soft and warm they’d been just moments prior. Her chest rose, then fell when he broke the seal. He followed rapidly with another breath and pressed his fingers into her carotid, whispering: “Come on, babe, come on, come one…”

Ten seconds passed, and there was no reassuring flutter under his fingers.

“No, Paloma!” Feeling sick, he started compressions again. “I’ve lost her pulse. Switching to thirty compressions, two breaths. Seven, eight, nine…”

“I’ve updated the paramedics, sir, thank you for the information.”

“…seventeen, eighteen, nineteen…” His mind was whirling, shock and the first fingers of grief addling his brain. He shook his head and forced his hands to shove her sternum down to the appropriate depth.

“Just got word that a fire truck is arriving, ETA less than a minute. Can they get into your residence?”

“…thirty! I’ll go open the front door now!” Josh sprang to his feet and sprinted out of the kitchen, running through the living room. He unlocked the front door and flung it open. As he turned to run back to the kitchen, he heard an engine’s siren in the distance.

Sliding back into place next to Paloma, he quickly reopened her airway and pressed his mouth to her cooling skin, watching her chest rise as he forced his breath into her. He gave her a second breath, listening as the siren grew closer.

“Our friends are coming to help, babe! Please hang on! One, two, three…” Her sternum collapsed under his hands and sprang back up. He told himself to remember that she needed him to do this, he had to do this or he’d never be able to talk to her again. The conversation they’d just had would be the last one. He’d never again see her smile, never have children with her, never…

By the time he heard shouting from his front door, his eyes brimmed with tears.

“Josh?! Josh, we’re coming in!” The woman’s voice was a relief. Marcy was the only female firefighter in the department; she was also a paramedic.

“In the kitchen!” he shouted, leaning over to give Paloma another breath. Most of the department had been to his house multiple times. They knew where his kitchen was and they knew Paloma.

Marcy’s here, babe, she’ll be able to help you.

By the time Marcy and Logan made it back to the kitchen, Josh had started chest compressions again. “…three, four, five, six, seven, eight…”

“Paloma! Oh my God!” Logan exclaimed, hurrying in after Marcy. Marcy had a black duffel over her shoulder and Logan carried the truck’s AED. They were both already gloved up and ready.

“Ambulance is three minutes out, paramedic crew,” Marcy said, dropping the bag on the floor. “We’ve got an AED and I can intubate with what I keep on the truck. Logan, take over compressions. Josh, tell me what happened while I get the AED going. And grab a BVM out of my kit.”

She spoke rapidly, her tone the one she would use to talk to him if he were working on a stranger and not his wife. Her manner had a steadying effect. He lifted his hands off Paloma’s chest and Logan leaned in, dwarfing her chest with his large hands. Josh crawled over to the duffel and unzipped it, quickly spotting the packaged ambu bag.

“She choked on a grape. I was right there, but… I couldn’t get it out. I couldn’t…” He attached the bag to the mask and cleared his throat. “I started chest compressions when she passed out. I cleared her airway, but she was already in cardiac arrest. She’s only been down a few minutes…”

He tipped Paloma’s head back and pressed the mask to her face before squeezing the bag. He watched Paloma’s chest rise just as Marcy cut up the center of Paloma’s light blue shirt, quickly snipping the center of her bra.

She likes that shirt, he thought dully. He squeezed the bag again as Marcy uncovered Paloma’s breasts, exposing the reddened bruise in the center of her chest.

Logan resumed chest compressions while Marcy prepped the AED pads.

“Connect the pads. Plug in the connector.”

“… twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two…”

Left bare, Paloma’s breasts wobbled with each forceful compression, her abdomen bulging in a rhythmic wave. He was holding her airway open, but he could feel the force of the compressions trying to shake her head from side to side. He heard her cartilage protest and hoped he’d have the chance to take care of her while she recovered from the necessary but brutal compressions.

Josh squeezed the bag as Marcy adhered the pads to Paloma’s skin, quickly rubbing them to ensure they were stuck. He gave her another breath, then he heard the AED proclaim: “Analyzing heart rhythm. Do not touch the patient. Analyzing heart rhythm. Please wait.”

He held his breath.

“Preparing shock. Move away from the patient.” They all glanced at each other to confirm that none of them was touching Paloma. “Shock will be delivered in three… two… one.”

Paloma’s body flinched, the energy centered in her chest.

“Shock delivered. It is now safe to touch the patient. Resume CPR for two minutes.”

“Continue one more round, Logan,” Marcy intoned. “Josh, move over to the AED. I’m going to intubate her.”

Josh scooted around to the AED. He’d intended to watch Marcy, but instead, he looked down at Paloma’s face. Her head had tipped over and she was facing his knees. She looked terrible; her skin a ghastly color. Marcy put her hands on Paloma’s head, tipping her face toward the ceiling and reopening her airway.

He reached out and grasped his wife’s hand.

“Paloma,” he whispered. “I love you.”

By then, Marcy had a laryngoscope in Paloma’s mouth, sliding the blade down her throat. She reached for the prepped endotracheal tube and said: “Pause compressions.”

When the ambulance gets here, I have to call Mateo. He needs to know…

“Josh, bag her for me while I listen.”

She’d already connected the bag; he released Paloma’s hand and carefully took over squeezing, watching as Marcy listened to Paloma’s lungs with her stethoscope.

“I’m in. Resume compressions, Logan. Keep squeezing, Josh.” She inflated the cuff, then used tape to secure the tube. Reaching for the bag, she said: “I’ll take back over ventilation. Thank you.”

Now, the compressions and breaths continued without stopping. Logan was pumping her chest hard, the expression on his face determined. He didn’t falter; each compression pushed her sternum down to the correct depth, making her breasts quake and her stomach bulge. Every few seconds, Marcy squeezed the bag. Josh took Paloma’s hand again, holding it tight. Her fingers felt cold.

“The ambulance is less than a minute out,” the operator said. Josh hadn’t remembered she was still on the phone.

“Thank you,” Marcy said.

The kitchen seemed to fill with the whooshing sound of the bag and Logan’s harsh breathing. Paloma’s shoulders twitched with each compression, the force traveling through her breasts and stomach, even down to her feet. She’d painted her toenails red, and he watched them sway back and forth. In the distance, he began to hear sirens.

“That’s them,” Marcy said, squeezing the bag.

The AED broke in: “Stop CPR. Do not touch the patient. Please wait.” Logan raised his hands.

“Analyzing heart rhythm. Please wait. Do not touch the patient. Analyzing heart rhythm. Please wait. It is now safe to touch the patient. Resume CPR for two minutes.” The AED had determined there was no shockable rhythm.

“No! Shit, Paloma! Please…” Josh’s hands came up to tear at his hair as Marcy and Logan changed positions. Marcy straddled his wife, found her landmark between her exposed breasts, and started hard and fast compressions, putting her body weight into the thrusts. Logan squeezed the bag, inflating Paloma’s lungs.

The ambulance is in front of the house, he thought. Please don’t be too late. Please, God…

He jumped to his feet and ran through the house, meeting them in the driveway. The medics were pulling a loaded gurney from the back of the ambulance; one of them looked up as he approached.

“You have the right house,” he said. “She’s in the kitchen. My wife, Paloma. She choked on a grape, and I got it out, but I was too late.”

He continued talking as they hurried to the house. “She’s been down for almost ten minutes, but I started chest compressions as soon as she lost consciousness and we’ve kept them up. My coworker just intubated her; she’s had one AED shock, but when it analyzed just now… there was nothing to shock.”

“Thank you, sir.” The paramedics were both men, and they looked familiar. He was sure he’d seen them on scene. The one in front of the gurney said: “You’re with the fire department, right? We’re going to take good care of her. You’ve done a good job.”

Josh helped guide the gurney into the kitchen and then he scooped Paloma’s phone off the floor. “The paramedics are here, I’m going to disconnect.”

“I’m Pete, this is Manny. Patient’s husband told us she’s been without a pulse for ten minutes, witnessed choking incident, CPR started immediately. One shock administered, patient is now asystolic?”

“That’s correct,” Marcy said. “I’m a paramedic, willing and able to assist.”

“Thank you, how long have you been performing compressions?” Pete asked. Manny was unloading the gurney, setting bags and a cardiac monitor on the floor.

“Ninety or so seconds.”

“Keep going for now. We will let the AED do its thing, then Manny will perform chest compressions. Marcy, you’ll get her on the monitor. I’m going to establish an IV.”

Josh backed away several steps and typed in Paloma’s phone passcode. Her wallpaper was a picture of the two of them in the backyard, pretending they were on a beach vacation since it wasn’t in their budget. His throat spasmed. He found Mateo in Paloma’s contacts and hesitated, his finger hovering over the call button.

“Stop CPR. Do not touch the patient. Please wait.” Marcy climbed off of Paloma and began unpacking the monitor.

“Analyzing heart rhythm. Please wait. Do not touch the patient. Analyzing heart rhythm. Please wait. It is now safe to touch the patient. Resume CPR for two minutes.”

“Manny, on her chest. Keep squeezing the bag, Logan. I’m going to push vasopressin. In three minutes I will follow with epinephrine., But we analyze again in two.”

Josh placed the call and started pacing as he pressed the phone against his ear.

The phone rang three times, and then Mateo answered. His voice had the tinny quality of a call from within the hospital, but he sounded happy.

“¡Hola! Herm—”

“Mateo, it’s Josh.” His voice was hoarse and cracked. “I’m on Paloma’s phone.”

“Are you alright?” his brother-in-law asked. “You sound sick.”

Marcy peeled off the pads from the engine’s AED and replaced them with a larger set. The monitor began to alarm.

“No… uh, Mateo, it’s about Paloma.”

Several seconds of silence. “What’s that sound? What do you mean?”

Marcy pushed a button, temporarily silencing the alarm. The paramedic Manny was blocking Josh’s view, though his shoulders continued to bob rapidly up and down.

“Josh? Josh, is something wrong? What do you mean? Where’s Paloma?” Mateo’s voice got quieter like he’d turned his mouth away from the phone. “I don’t know, I think something’s wrong!”

“She choked,” Josh managed. His throat spasmed painfully. “She choked… I…”

Another long silence.

Josh continued: “On a grape. It was stuck, Mat, I was there and I couldn’t get it out… I couldn’t, and by the time I did, she’d already…”

“Already what?” Mateo’s voice was barely perceptible.

“The paramedics are working on her now. I lost her pulse, Mat. I lost her pulse.” Tears finally spilled over, and he sank to a crouch. He was vaguely aware of Marcy glancing in his direction.

“Is… is my sister dead, Josh?”

Josh shook his head, then made himself speak out loud. “No! No, I mean… Fuck, they’re doing CPR, they’ve got a defibrillator, they just gave her vasopressin... That’s a medication they use for... arrests. She’s had quality CPR the whole time! No, no, no, she’s not dead!”

“That’s right,” Marcy called over. “We haven’t given up. She just needs a minute for the medication to circulate.”

Josh dragged himself back to his feet and moved to the side until he could see Paloma. The medic who’d taken the lead was taking her blood pressure. Logan kept squeezing the bag. Manny was still performing rapid, textbook compressions. Watching them felt strange. Unreal. His wife lay on the floor completely limp. Every movement of her body, from the rhythmic ripple of her abdomen to the flop of her arm as Marcy moved it to the side, was someone else’s doing.

“Mateo?”

“Should I come to the house? Will you b-be there long enough for me to—”

“Stay there. At the hospital.” Josh dashed the tears from his eyes. “I’ll see if they’ll let me ride up front. I will let you know… everything. How she is, when we load up, when we arrive…”

“Analysis, pause CPR.” The alarm started bleeping again. This time the lead silenced it. “Still asystolic. Logan, please switch with Manny. I will administer epinephrine in one minute.”

“Put the phone on speaker!” he heard a quiet voice say in the background. Then: “Josh, it’s Ellie. I put you on speaker because Mateo is having difficulty speaking. What… How is it… going?”

“They are giving her more medication in a minute. Epinephrine.”

“She’s going to be okay,” Ellie said.

Josh didn’t reply.

“Josh? Mateo?” Ellie said, sounding upset. “She’s going to be okay!”

The soles of Paloma’s feet were dirty, he noticed. He wished he could wash them; he knew her dirty feet would bother her. Probably more than knowing her breasts were exposed.

“Pushing epinephrine,” the lead said.

The next sixty seconds seemed to crawl by. Ellie said something, he responded with a one-word answer that may not have been relevant. The lead felt Paloma’s pulse in her neck, then her wrist. Josh assumed he was checking the effectiveness of compressions. Logan shoved his interlinked hands between Paloma’s breasts. Manny squeezed the bag.

“Pause compressions,” the lead said. “Analy—”

“She’s in v-fib!” Marcy said, her voice loud, evidently loud enough to carry through his phone call because he heard Ellie ask what that meant. A different alarm filled the kitchen. Marcy pressed a button on the monitor defibrillator. “Charging.”

“Everyone clear!” All four of them shifted away, Manny unhooking the bag. “Administer the shock.”

Marcy pressed a larger, flashing button. Paloma’s body jerked, and as soon as she was still, Marcy pressed her fingers into the side of Paloma’s neck. Manny started squeezing the bag again.

“Still in v-fib,” the lead said. “Two more minutes of CPR and then we analyze again. Logan and Manny, switch.”

“They’re going to shock her again in two minutes,” Josh said into the phone. The device was hot against his face; he could feel sweat trickling down his temple. Manny had chosen to straddle Paloma, one foot planted on the tile and his shoulders over his hands as he gave her rapid, deep compressions. Josh could see her stomach undulating, her legs rocking.

Marcy paused the alarm again.

“Good CPR, keep it up,” Peter encouraged them. “Analysis in one minute.”

Ellie and Mateo were silent, and all Josh could do was try to control his breathing. He heard the unmistakable crack of something giving away in Paloma’s chest; Manny didn’t change his technique, ignoring the sound as he forced her heart to pump blood around her body.

As he watched, Josh realized the grape was still laying on the floor, miraculously intact.

“Alright,” Peter said. “Time to analyze.”

Compressions stopped.

“V-fib, everyone clear!”

Manny climbed off, breathing hard.

“Clear!”

Marcy pressed the flashing button and Paloma’s torso briefly jumped off the floor, the subtle jerk telegraphing into her arms and legs.

“Pulse check!” Peter reached over and unzipped Paloma’s pants, yanking the waistband down and pressing his fingers into her femoral artery. Marcy pressed hers into Paloma’s neck. “Still no pulse! Marcy you’re on her chest, Manny I want you monitoring. I’m pushing another epi. We’ll analyze again in two!”

Marcy slung her leg over Paloma’s hips and leaned her shoulders over her hands, her pace ferocious as she forced Paloma’s sternum into her heart.

Pete, he realized, was on the phone, asking about a second unit, “if needed, possibility of refractory ventricular fibrillation”

Don’t die, please don’t die, I’m not ready…

Marcy’s shoulders bobbed, and Logan squeezed the bag. Josh could see Marcy’s compressions registering on the monitor.

Soon, it was time to analyze again, and Marcy climbed off of his wife.

“V-fib, everyone clear, everyone clear, okay, administer shock!”

Manny pressed the flashing orange button and Paloma’s chest twitched and her shoulders jumped. The room was briefly silent as the paramedics each searched for Paloma’s pulse.

Josh saw it before anyone spoke it out loud. A familiar pattern migrated across the monitor screen. Distinctive, identical waveforms.

“Sinus rhythm,” Peter said.

“We got her!” Logan shouted.

All of the air rushed out of Josh’s lungs, and he found himself crouched on the tile again, feeling like the top of his head might come off. “She has a pulse!” he wheezed into the phone.

“Oh my God!” he heard Mateo say, followed by Ellie: “She’s going to be okay?”

“She’s making respiratory effort,” Manny said. He was watching her chest and squeezing the bag in sync with the irregular rise. “Ma’am, Paloma? If you can hear me, the tube down your throat is helping you breathe.”

Josh got off the floor and slid in next to Marcy, reaching for Paloma’s hand. “Paloma! Babe? You’re okay. It’s Josh. I’m here!

Her eyelids fluttered, though she didn’t open her eyes.

“Let’s get her packaged and loaded up,” the lead medic said. I’m going to go ahead and start IV fluids for hypotension; we’ll be prepared for pain management.”

Josh squeezed her hand and looked at the lead medic. “May I ride up front?”

“You may, sir. Not a problem.”

“Thank you… Mateo, did you hear any of that? She’s starting to breathe on her own. They’re going to let me ride in the front.”

Mateo said something in Spanish that Josh couldn’t translate, but he could understand the relief he heard in his brother-in-law’s voice.

“I assume you need to get off the phone,” Ellie said. “Call when you can. Tell her we love her!”

Josh disconnected the call and put the phone in his pocket. “I love you, Paloma. And so do Mateo and Ellie. I’ll be right back; I need to find your wallet and put on some shoes or they might not let me in the hospital.” He squeezed Paloma’s hand again and looked up at Marcy.

“It’s okay,” she said, nodding. “Do what you need to do. We will holler if she wakes up, okay?”

“She’s responding to stimuli,” Manny said. “It’s a good sign.”

Josh brought her cold hand up to his lips, kissed her fingers, then gently laid her hand on the floor.

“I’ll be right back,” he said again. “I love you. Don’t go anywhere.”

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beatingheart-writingwoes · 4 days ago

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Dragon riding can be a dangerous sport :) This is for day 20 and 25 of CPR Awareness Month, "Assisted Respiration" and "In Front of a Crowd"

Contains: near drowning, conscious resus, assisted breathing, mouth to mouth, m victim, f rescuer (Brian is bigender this is just the easiest descriptor), vampire rescuer, human victim, clinical medics, an arrow through the chest, temporary magical paralysis

The crowd roared in the distance, fans eager as the dragon-rider pairs approached the archery portion of the racecourse. Prince Mars was in the lead, his lesser dragon Comet sprinting along the ground as though he were already in flight. Together they rocketed towards the cliff's edge, and brilliant white wings snapped open as they sailed into the air.

Whistles and flashes of magic drifted along the wind, increasing when Mars glanced back towards them. He laughed, joy bubbling up in his chest as they tilted into a dive to stay within the course's limits. As they evened out again, Comet darted through the archery gates. They shone, signalling a racer had entered the last section of the track, and Mars drew his bow as they began to climb again.

The first arrow shone as he drew it back, trailing that same verdant light as they streaked through the sky. All he had to do was shoot as many targets along the route as he could before anyone else did. He sent it sailing, the first target exploding into a gleaming halo of green--his racing color.

The most dangerous position to be in a lesser dragon race was at the front, though. The targets may have been placed so that riders would fire out into the water, away from other riders or the audience, but that didn't mean people wouldn't get cocky. Come-from behind victories had been snatched up by daring shots from a rider who managed to calculate everything just right.

Mars had been lucky in his racing career so far. Comet was nimble and quick, and he didn't stand in his saddle for better range of motion. He'd barely been nicked before, an awful cut that stung for weeks even after healing, but that hadn't been terrible. Leo's whip hurt far worse.

Today though, the only warning Mars got was the crackle of a signalling spell. Not a moment after he turned his head and caught sight of the brilliant golden-wreathed arrow, it lodged itself in his chest. He couldn't even scream as it loosed its charge into his body.

What felt like electricity ripped through him, coursing through Comet just as viciously. It lit up every nerve, filled his vision, forced the breath from his lungs. In a burst of awful, ethereal light, it all stopped.

Wind overpowered every other sense Mars had. The bite of the salt it carried, the rush of it around him, the way it made the crowd's panic and the other riders' desperate shouts fade away. Dimly, behind his goggles and wrapped in his weighty flight cloak, Mars wondered if he'd die.

He couldn't even feel his arms.

He hoped they'd be able to rescue Comet, at least. His dragon twisted and writhed just below him, trying to right himself even as his limbs failed to cooperate. A splash sent water flying, and then Mars was swallowed by the lake.

The only good thing about this, Mars thought, as the magma of broken bones being jostled belatedly rippled though him, was that it was quiet. His days could be so loud, so overwhelming. Dinners, parties where he had to put on his best face and be what people needed him to be, it was luxurious without a doubt, but...it was all a lot.

Water was quiet, though. He loved how quiet it was. Water cradled you, blocked out the noise, offered comfort by pressing in all around.

Even then, with limbs aching and his throat burning, Mars couldn't bring himself to hate the water.

Mars saw figures diving in above him, slicing through the water as easily as if it were air. He couldn't hold his breath. It felt like he couldn't do anything but blink. Even that ability was fading fast.

Someone swam for him, hand outstretched. Their dragon wasn't far behind, head lunging forwards to make a grab for him. Their gloved hand grabbed his, separating the broken halves of Mars' forearm for a moment as they tugged him into their arms.

Mars' eyes rolled up into his head, and before he could even begin to understand that rush of pain, he was out.

Mars' rescuer surfaced with a gasp. bobbing in the waves. Brian was new to this--almost all of it. This was her first race. "Candy!" She shouted, her brilliant pink dragon surfacing with the prince's sputtering dragon draped over her back. "Candy, oh--oh good girl, Candy, my perfect girl." Brian wanted to sob in relief as her lesser dragon grabbed her by the bite handles on her riding harness and easily pulled them both onto her back.

The prince was almost a full foot taller than her, and with his own gear on was easily more than twice her weight--he was lucky she'd been the first to dive after him. His eyes fluttered when she pressed her ear to his chest, next to the arrow shaft. She was from the coast so this, at least, wasn't an impossibly new situation to navigate.

The vampiric sense for heartbeats was also helpful.

The prince's heart still beat, and thankfully the arrow shaft was keeping him from bleeding out for the moment. As Candy began paddling for shore, Brian tipped his head back and breathed for him. "Wake up for me, your highness." She said, filling his lungs again.

He groaned, the noise gurgling in his throat before it tipped over into a full, wet cough. Brian turned Mars' head to the side, patting his chest as he wheezed in her arms. "C'mon, almost there." Her own strawberry blond curls were heavy with water, and she brushed them back when falling droplets made the prince flinch. "You weren't under long, you can do it."

He managed another cough, another torrent of lake water falling from his lips before he gasped again. His chest jerked, his voice warped and catching on things that weren't even syllables. He was trying, but calling what he was doing "breathing" felt dangerously generous.

Brian cradled him closer, waiting for him to exhale before pressing more air into him. He tensed in her arms, trying to pull away. Her hand cupped his cheek as he whimpered, stopping him from fully turning away.

"I know, I know." She said, stroking her thumb along his cheekbone. "It's scary, but you're not breathing well. Deep breaths for me." She didn't like knowing that this was scaring him, that she had to ignore him saying no--but alive and traumatized was better than dead. "I'll work with you."

This time, her offered breath sent him into a deeper coughing fit, water spilling over his chin as he heaved. Dark eyes fluttered open again as he tried to listen, and one hand twitched like he wanted to hold something. He smelled incredible, in the way only terror could do to someone.

All Brian wanted to do was press her fangs to his pulse point and bite down, her hunger flaring hot and immediate. He felt so much like prey. But she wasn't a fledgling. She wasn't a newly turned monster.

She adjusted him in her arms, her hand moving from cradling his face to holding his gloved hand. She felt his fingers wrap around her palm. He twitched, and for a moment she worried that he was seizing or choking again. A soft, almost imperceptible sob escaped, though, as he finally gasped in a full breath.

"Oh--oh, your highness, hey..." Brian felt him tremble against her, his face tipping to hide in her shoulder. "Hey, shh, I have you. You can cry. You're safe now." His voice cracked from the force of his terror, tears mingling with the lake water. Each breath was deep, harsh, desperate now. He coughed now and then, and Brian wasn't sure whether it was from the near-drowning or the sobbing while lying on his back.

He clung to Brian like a lifeline, even as the panicked roar of the crowd began to close in.

Candy, sides flaring and heaving from the effort of swimming with two people and another dragon on her back, finally crawled onto shore before collapsing. Medics ran over, bags in hand, quickly helping both riders and Comet down. Prince Mars clung to Brian like she was the only good thing in the world, flinching hard away from the noise and hands.

"He's breathing and starting to wake up--and he's scared, be nice!" Brian scolded as the medics started to pull him from her arms. She wanted to clutch him closer, but there was no telling how many broken bones the fall had granted him.

Her magic had parted the water to break the surface tension, but that was still a hell of a drop.

Brian was shuffled away with Candy as the dragon medics closed in around the distressed, but thankfully awake, Comet. Brian felt her chest ache as he trilled for his person, stretching his neck as far as he could to get even a little bit closer to Mars. Another glance back saw the medic checking over Mars and looking relieved. He wasn't holding the prince's hand or talking to him though, his attention was only on the other medics.

Frustration boiled in Brian's chest as Mars' drifting hands were simply pressed back down to the ground.

Candy curled her neck around Brian then, nuzzling up under her chin and chirruping as if to ask if she did well. Brian hugged her snout, pressing her face to the tiny, soft scales of Candy's forehead. "Yeah." She sighed, letting Candy pick her up like that to set her on her back. "Yeah, you did good. Couldn't have done it without you." The familiar sway of Candy's walk was nice, if nothing else.

Mars would be tended to at the medical tent, at least until they were sure he was stable enough to travel. As her eyes drifted over the different snack stands that lined the outer ring of the racing grounds, she vaguely remembered that the prince's favorite fruit was blueberry. Frustration gave way to the realization that she could probably talk her way into visiting him once the initial care was done.

She'd saved him, after all, of course they'd let her check on him.

She clicked her tongue, sliding down from Candy's back as they approached a drink stall. "Hey--so how much to make that blueberry smoothie into like a tea or something?" If the actual medics wouldn't be sweet, then she could at least make sure Mars got some sort of comfort.

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