CHAPTER 52

I'm eight minutes away from Levi.

The average emergency services response time in New York city is nine minutes and fifty seconds. They're already on their way, but I'll make it to him first.

Hayden, please come quickly.

That's all the text said. And I knew.

There is no room for panic now. Somewhere, deep inside my psyche, I have already buried Levi. I have already lived a thousand years without him because he, too, has left me. Somewhere inside that vile darkness I, too, am dead. Because despite everything Sylvia said about being whole enough to survive any tragedy, I will not survive Levi's death.

My mother was right. Elizabeth was right. I would not survive a second time.

I breathe through my nostrils, compartmentalizing. I can get to him in time. I'll make it. Fuck the heavens, I'll fucking make it. Choking sobs pour out of me. Help me, God. Help me. Help me. Help me.

My heart pounds in my chest, the thunderous beat reaching my ears and filling my head. No, Levi. No, Levi. No, Levi. Stay, Levi. Stay, Levi. Stay, Levi.

The words chase after me as I take the stairs to Levi's apartment two, three at a time.

The door is fucking locked.

I bang and scream out his name.

And then I shoulder the fucking thing, sending every ounce of my weight crashing into the door. Running on nothing but adrenaline and the terrifying images piercing my mind, I ram my body into the door over and over again. Every second feels like an eternity.

The door finally gives, and I rush inside.

"Levi," I shout.

Racing to his bedroom, I let out an anguished cry, an inhuman sound that can no longer be contained for the fear coursing through my body over what I might find.

He's on his bed, curled up like a baby.

I rush to him, unable to contain my despair at the sight of the bottles and bottles of pills and water on the nightstand. A bottle lies next to Levi, pills spilled over. The bottle of water has spilled onto the bed near his phone.

A piece of clothing is squashed into his chest and next to his phone—

Everything stops. I can't move. I can't breathe and I welcome it because I can't live. I've fallen through the ice of a frozen lake, submerged into the icy water below.

A handwritten note. My handwritten note. Nicholas's suit.

"Levi." I can hardly get the word out.

"Levi."

And then, my legs move, working on adrenaline alone. I can carry him out. I'll take him to the hospital myself. I can't wait another second. Levi will die. But Levi is already dead. Isn't Levi already dead? No. Help us, God. No. No.

"Sir, I need you to move out of the way, please. Sir? Step aside."

"Levi," I whisper.

Three medics fill up the space in the room. "Help him," I whisper. "Help him, please."

They work quickly, checking Levi's vitals. The sound of a heart monitor registers. "We'll take it from here, sir. I need you to step back, please."

I step back, wishing I was God so I could save him. "Levi. Sweetheart," I whisper. "What did you do?"

The third medic communicates with a dispatcher. "Male, mid-twenties. Breathing but unresponsive. Possible overdose. Vitals are weak. ETA to nearest hospital?"

The dispatcher provides instructions and details of the hospital and Levi is transferred to a stretcher.

"Sir?" A hand on my forearm. "Are you coming with us?"

I nod, forcing myself to breathe, then grab Levi's phone along with the note.

The flashing lights of the ambulance adds to this nightmare and is made even worse by the blare of the siren. I catch a blur of vehicles on the road giving way to the emergency vehicle as we race through the streets.

I pray all the way to the hospital, watching the heart monitor, terrified it will flatline any moment. The parallels to two years ago are incomprehensible.

Live, Levi. Please, I beg you. Live. Don"t leave me.

His face is ashen. Pale as fresh snow, his freckles standing out prominently. Levi's body is limp, suspended somewhere in the void between life and death. I can't bear this. My tears fall mercilessly, my heart pounding against my rib cage. There is no reprieve from this nightmare.

I reach out to touch his eyes. Open your eyes, Levi, I scream inside my head. Wake up so I can take you home. "Levi," I whisper.

The paramedics working beside me speak in low, urgent voices. I can hardly hear them over the wail of the siren and the deafening roar inside my head, catching only a few words such as stabilize and IV drip and THREE MINUTES. GET READY—

"Levi,"I whisper, touching him one last time as the medics prepare to move him.

"Stay, Levi."

And again, "Stay, Levi."