Angels I Don't See PART XXI: Blood Angels

If you want to read the parts leading up to Part XXI click here for Parts I-XX

Part XXI: Blood Angels

Late January/2009

The day my father was to arrive a snowstorm was predicted up the Eastern seaboard. We were both apprehensive about this but my father, who has an SUV, insisted that he could beat the storm if he left early enough. Putting my nervousness aside I tried to get some sleep.

But as I twisted and turned all night I could only think about two things. The first was my scheduled court trial the following day and the other was my dad’s arrival.
I was nervous that at the trial the man who filed the police report would be there and ultimately I would have to explain to the judge the truth about Ric driving without a license and fleeing the scene. Points would be added to my license (I was not worried about jail since no one was apparently injured) and that I would be forced to pay hefty fine with money I did not have.

I was also worried that it would be my father keeping an eye on Ric while I was at court. Did my dad fully grasp Ric’s mental condition? Would he realize that unleashing a torrent of verbal assaults on Ric would be futile as Ric would not understand a word he was saying? Would my father be physically able to carry Ric to bathroom or pick him up if he fell?

All these concerns and more were on my mind as I tried to get some much needed rest.
Around 3:00 in the morning, after finally falling asleep, I awoke to the sound of a dull thud. Normally such a noise would not rouse me from my sleep but, with Ric in such a fragile state, I became much like a new mother who awakes when her baby so much as rolls over.

Turning on the light at my nightstand, I looked around to see where Ric was. He was not in bed, he was not anywhere in sight and our dog, Trotter, usually nestled in her bed at the foot of our bed, was standing at the door, something she never did.

“Ric?

Ric?

RIC!!!!!” I screamed, manically jumping out of bed and into the hallway of our building in nothing but my boxer briefs.

There he was, about twenty feet down the hall, in a pool of blood, lying on the floor like a limp doll. How I managed to hear him fall so far from our apartment is beyond me. As I ran to him, with his blood soaked clothes and blood on the floor, I grabbed his wrist for signs of a pulse.

“Oh, hey babe” he said, turning his eyes up to me.

“What happened? Why are you out here? Where did you cut yourself?”

“I came out because I wanted to go outside and see the snow.”

It was 3:00AM; he was wearing underwear and a t-shirt with no shoes or socks. Had he made it to his destination, he would surely have frozen to death.

“Where’s the blood coming from? Where did you cut yourself?”

“Huh? What blood? I didn’t cut myself. That’s snow babe. Isn’t it pretty?” he said as he began to move his arms along the floor smearing all the blood around him. “I’m making snow angels”

“Babe, before I move you I need to know where you cut yourself so I don’t do any more damage than has already been done.”

“Make snow angels with me and then we could build a …..”

Before he could finish his sentence I was already back in the apartment getting alcohol, gloves, band-aids, bleach and paper towels.

When I made it back out he was sitting up. Reality had hit him.

“Babe! I’m bleeding! I’m bleeding! What is going on?” he screamed.

“Calm down, babe. It’s ok. You just fell. Don’t get worked up and don’t scream. You’ll wake the neighbors.” I said as I found the source of what seemed like pints and pints of blood; a small cut on his right wrist. I immediately took his t-shirt off and used it as a tourniquet on his upper forearm.

Then I grabbed the alcohol and began trying to wipe the blood from the wound. After a few minutes of trying to get the small cut to clot, it slowed enough for me to put some ointment on and bandage it.

“Babe, I’m scared. Are we in jail? Did I get beat up?” Ric said, shaking from fear and the cold.

With the pool of blood still around us and the paper towels, gloves and bleach just sitting there, I pulled him close to my chest and held him, whispering “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I am here. We are home. You are safe”

“But I am bleeding”

As I felt the warm blood from his arm drip down my back as he was holding on to me I whispered again “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I am here. We are home. You are safe”

“But you’re crying. Why are you crying, babe?” he said as I lifted him off the ground and carried him back to the apartment with blood now all over my face, chest, hands and back.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. I am here. We are home. You are safe”

After changing his clothes, wiping up the rest of the blood on his body and putting him back into bed I went back out in the hall to sanitize the area. When I came back in, I went to the bathroom to clean myself up. As I looked in the mirror, my face was crimson red with his blood. The only places on my face that were clear were where my tears had rolled down my cheeks washing the blood away.

There was nothing to be afraid of. I was there. We were home. He was safe.


PART XXII SOON