This particular evening wasn't about my 'phantom' lover. It was about midnight when I heard my door open. As I went to see who was coming in, there I see standing in front of me, a man bleeding all over himself. Blood was everywhere. He had this look on his face of bewilderment, and needing help in the worse way, beyond what I could offer him. My first thoughts were why was he standing in my apartment? What led him into apt. 9? This guy needed an ambulance. I was in shock seeing him standing there like that, and not knowing who he was or why he was there. I told him to immediately leave. I didn't want any part of this. He practically begged me for help, at least to wash some of the blood away, but it was more then just attending to his wounds that he needed help with, as I would learn latter.
I lead him into my bathroom, pushing him towards the sink, while cool water flowed out of the faucet. He was holding his right wrist with his left hand, holding it under the water, shaking uncontrollably. The sink was a maze of bright red swirls, with even more blood pouring out of his wrist. That wasn't the only wound this guy had. As I looked at him, the front of his shirt was covered with fresh blood. My hands were suddenly covered in this red mess, and then all of a sudden, I threw a towel over his arms, and demanded that he leave.
As he attempted to leave the bathroom, he hesitated, then fell to the floor. Did he die, did he faint? Shit, what the hell am I going to do now? I didn't want to call the police, after all, they might think I know him and link me to this man whom I don't even know.
I kneeled down close enough to see that he was still breathing. All I could do at first was to get him out of the bathroom, so I dragged him as best as I could into the hallway. At least he would be out of sight from the front door. If anyone would attempt to come in, they wouldn't see him.
I wrapped his bleeding wrist with more towels, hoping the blood would stop gushing out. That's all I needed, the police to find a dead man in my apartment. Within minutes, he came to, but still very groggy and not too coherent. He continuously kept on saying he was ok, but it was obvious he wasn't. I told him I was calling an ambulance and he insisted I shouldn't call anyone. Then I told him he could die, and that I didn't want him to die in my apartment. He told me not to worry, but worrying was first on my list that I was doing at that very moment.
I have enough drama happening in apt 9, and I certainly didn't need this. His dark hurting eyes begged me again, begging that he could stay in my hallway for few more minutes. I said yes. I brought him water to drink, and after a sip or two, he poured the rest on his head. I slumped onto the floor next to him, just looking at this poor creature, wondering what had led to this.
As I sat there, I could see his face was handsome, under all that sweat and blood. The blood from his body got onto to his face, and he was quite the mess. I went to get more water, and gently stroked his face with it, clearing away some of the blood from his forehead and cheeks. He breathed a sigh of relief.
I asked him if he was still bleeding, and he said he didn't think so. He began to gently undo the towels that were wrapped around his wrist, with relief that the bleeding had finally stopped. Thank God. I too was relieved with the hope that now this stranger would leave.
As I asked him his name, he started to go into a slow sleep, trying to keep his eyes open. Just as I asked him again, he was out. Asleep in my hallway. Great. Now what? Do I wake him? Do I let him stay there? The lights were dim, and all I could do for that very moment was to think of my next move. But what would it be? Here I am, sitting down in my hallway with a stranger full of blood. And now he's sleeping.
Ah, someone help me!
Help was never on it's way for me, as I was always my own help, and this was no exception. Within minutes, this handsome bloody stranger would move his head back and forth, coming to, only to fall back into unconsciousness. This time, I woke him, telling him he couldn't stay here, and that he needed to leave. He didn't hear me. I left the dim red light on. I felt helpless. I walked into the living room, pacing back and forth, only to get into bed and hope by the time I wake up, the stranger on my floor would be gone.
I pondered this event of horror as I lay in bed. I lay there still and in deep thought. I didn't move. I felt as if I was in a morgue and not on my soft comfortable bed. I wondered why he had tried to commit suicide. After all, his wrist was cut, and cut very deeply. Please let him leave. He has to leave. What if someone sees him. Ok, I'll make him leave, and as these thoughts entered my mind, I too finally fell asleep.
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