His Hands - Chapter 1

Trev looked dead. 1

He was sprawled out in his living room, laying on his stomach, and he was completely stark naked. I remember, because Trevor was always easy to remember that way: naked. It scared the sh*t out of me when I saw him like that, and when I ran across the room and knelt down beside of him, it only seemed to fuel the fire that made me believe he was indeed gone. 2

His breath was so shallow, I could hardly see his chest rise and fall when I turned him over, and with his slate-grey eyes half closed like they were, black and blue bruises forming on his left arm, I pretty much put two and two together. 3

The ambulance arrived within the next five minutes, and the whole neighborhood was awake and aware as to the goings on at 353 Arrow Street. It was no secret that Trevor Cambridge was a "druggie". He was eighteen years old, and had already screwed up his life so bad it wasn't funny. I was lucky enough to be one of the few people Trev held dear to his heart. He hated anything and anyone else with a passion that was only attributed to those with a past so horrible it made the shrinks see professionals.  4

My name is Auralyn Jamice Laven. Friends, like Trev, call me Jami. I was Trevor's girlfriend that year in 1999, and although I was sixteen, and he was of legal age, no one in the neighborhood ever said anything. Oh, sure...they'd walk on by and "tut" and "tsk" and shake their heads, but Trev was never reported to the police for any of his dealings or private affairs. He was just another one of the people in that little Rhode Island town that no one cared about. 5

'Cept me, of course. 6

Trev and I grew up on the South Side of Parkridge; the rough end of town. My mother had a "job" at the nearby club, and was gone most of the time, leaving me at home by myself most evenings, to do whatever I wanted. I was about seven when Trev moved in next door, and from the start, we were close.  7

I can remember as far back to the third day after he moved in, us sitting out on the dock by Clumber's Creek, feet dangling in the cool water, sour suckers from Johnson's Tack and Feed big in our cheeks. But right now, at this minute, standing in Triage at St. Catherine's Hope Hospital, that didn't matter anymore. That was years ago. 8

A lot had happened to ruin and screw up both of our lives since then. 9

"He came pretty close this time, Jami." 10

Martha Wells' fiery red head peered out from behind Trev's triage curtain before stepping out, swinging the piece of ugly green fabric into place, and giving a "tut" under her breath. 11

"Your Ma know you're here?" she asked, placing his chart in her left hand, pen in her right, nervously tapping the thing on her rather large thigh. Martha and I had become acquaintances the first time I accompanied Trev to St. Catherine's. I'd been back with him plenty of times sense then...strangely, Martha always seemed to be on shift. 12

"Does she ever?" 13

"Well, it never hurts to ask, hon."14

"She ain't gonna know I'm here either. She's home drunk as a dog on the couch, I'm sure. Besides. I ain't leaving him." I nodded towards the curtain-room, my auburn hair swinging in my face. I liked my hair. It was the nicest thing on my body, (at least I thought so,) at the time, and if nothing else on me looked decent, my hair always did. 15

Martha nodded to my reply, and sighed. 16

"Well...good thing the police have already been in and out. They're hurrying up about their business lately. Too many other, bigger distractions in this town than a depressed little drug-head with nowhere to go but the hospital over and over. All those injections and dirty needles, he's probably got something a lot worse than a morphine overdose." She shook her head once more, and walked off down the hall. 17

I gave her the finger as she walked away, and stepped into Trevor's curtain. 18

I'd never seen him this bad-off before. The other times, he'd at least been coherent enough to call me and tell me to come take him to St. C's. This time, I hadn't even been able, hardly, to distinguish him from dead or alive. That scared me. It *really* scared me. And as I stood there by the gurney, the hair on my arms stood on end under my black sweatshirt, and I swallowed hard.19

This was the first time Trev had used Morphine. Which explained, easily, why he'd OD'd. Too ignorant to know what dose was appropriate. Then again, no dose was appropriate...but Trevor wouldn't have turned down anything for a high or a good fifteen hours of sleep. Not anymore, he wouldn't have.20

They found the syringe in the bathroom by the sink, and the bottle of Morphine in the medicine cabinet. Hell knows where he got it--but I had a pretty good idea. Filthy, dirty Robert Simms. I'd have his a** when I got back to Arrow Street. 21

I sat down in the chair by the bed, and leaned back, hands clenched into fists buried deep in my sweatshirt's Roo Pocket. I closed my eyes, breathed a few times, and let that cold sting of fear slap me across the face as I remembered the phone ringing off the hook at his house, then walking across the street and finding him there. 22

I'd have Trev's a** too, when he woke up.23

But not until I told him how damn much I loved him.  24