Resus writing for the soul

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Poor little forest fairy needs help.

The fall from Olympus (written during the 2024 Paris Olympics)

It was like watching a trainwreck.

When someone jumps several feet up, it's only natural to wonder what happens if they fall. But like in a roller coaster, you know it's all illusion of danger. These are trained professionals. They train for years falling onto soft surfaces. There are protective mats and safety measures.

And yet she fell. Her hand slipped and she spun out of control and fell, chest first, against the lowest of the parallel bars, before flopping to the ground.

The audience was silent. The judges were silent. The athletes, the coaches. The cheery music kept playing because no one could move to even turn it off. The first to react was the rescue team.

They raced across the arena. That job was meant to be a respite from the usual bustle of EMTing. A cut here, a scrape there, a concussion at best.

But as Gabrielle reached the gymnast, she had the impression that today would be different. She had not moved from where she had fallen. As Gabrielle touched her shoulder, calling her name "Tatiana? Can you hear me?", she heard the cameras clicking, capturing this awful moment. She was all too aware of the hundreds of eyes following her every movement.

Tatiana did not move. Her eyes didn't even flutter. She was out cold. Gabrielle rubbed her sternum hard, trying to garner any reaction. Nothing. Jean-Paul, her colleague, pressed two fingers to her neck, then put his hand to her nose.

"No consciousness. No pulse. No breathing. Start CPR."

The last thing she wanted was to conduct such a delicate procedure in front of all those people.

"Get backup. Warn the higher ups. We need to get her out of here as soon as we can."

As she joined her hands on the center of Tatiana's chest and got started on chest compressions, Jean-Paul started speaking on his walkie talkie. The audience took attention to it first, at first with hushed whispers that grew into an roar. From the corners of her eyes, Gabrielle could see people pulling out their phones and recording. Security started moving, asking people to stay calm and stay on their seats.

A voice from the speakers came, telling people to stand by as the team dealt with a medical emergency and that the competition would resume shortly.

Gabrielle finished the first cycle. Jean-Paul was already back, tilting the gymnast's head back and pressing the ambu-bag to Tatiana's face. She was still flushed from the exertion. Her chest rose and fell and there was no sign of her coming back.

Gabrielle started another cycle. There were people speaking above her. Tatiana's coach, in tears. She had been a gymnast too, with a jump named after her. She wasn't even all that much older than Tatiana.

"Is she going to be okay?" She asked in a heavily accented English.

"We'll do all we can," Jean-Paul told her, pressing his fingers to Tatiana's neck. He shook his head.

More of their team arrived, setting up a screen around them so they could work more privately. Out there, people were screaming Tatiana's name, as if that would help.

Amelie knelt next to Gabrielle and got to work on cutting the beautiful collant, revealing the hard earned muscles beneath, all kinesiology tape, the small breasts. She'd gone paler now. As Gabrielle started on the third round of compressions, Amelie started pressing Tatiana's belly and legs, looking for lesions, signs of internal bleeding. If something that ruptured inside of her, depending on what it was, she had minutes to get to surgery.

When Gabrielle stopped, Jean-Paul was ready to place the AED pads on Tatiana's chest. The machine whirred to life, analyzing.

"Shock advised. Clear the patient. Press the orange button," it said. Jean-Paul pressed it and Tatiana's body seized, her arms and legs moving in unison. The AED hummed again. "Analyzing heart rhythm. Do not touch the patient... Shock advised. Clear the patient. Press the orange button."

By the second shock, the coach let out a wounded sound and walked out of the surrounded area. From the other side of the blinds, Gabrielle could hear her cry. The sound of whispers from the audience only got louder.

"We have sinus!" Jean-Paul said, bringing Gabrielle back to the task at hand. "Still no breathing. Let's get her out of here."

As he hyperventilated her, Gabrielle and Amelie made quick work of placing a sheet under Tatiana - she was small but heavy with all that muscle. Lucas and Henri came bringing the gurney once Amelie requested it on the radio. With a count of three, they transferred her to it and strapped her in. Jean-Paul checked for a pulse again. "Very sluggish. Quick, let's go."

"I took the shot."

A pause.

"... you what?"

"I did it. So, you'll need to send help."

"Fuck. How long ago?"

He's more awake now.

"Less than a minute. I'm already on the floor and the front door is unlocked."

"Dammit, kid, I wish you'd waited."

"I know. I couldn't."

"Okay, I've got Delta on the way. How's your breathing?"

She paused, feeling how her lungs filled and emptied. There was a weight to the action, one that grew heavier with each passing moment.

"It's... getting harder."

Another curse on the other end.

"Try to stay awake as long as you can. Keep talking to me."

"What did you have for dinner?"

"Uhm, Chinese takeout. Noodles and chicken."

"Delicious." Her breathing hitched audibly.

"You okay?"

"Yes."

"Delta will be there in just a few."

"Who's on Delta?"

A moment, some shifting on the other end.

"Hodges, Seed, Jackson, Black, Sharpe, and Whit."

A rough inhale, a shuddering exhale.

"I hate Seed."

"I know, but he's one of the best."

She doesn't respond, just tried to shift herself to alleviate the discomfort growing in her chest.

"You still with me?" He asks.

"Yes."

"2 minutes. You're gonna be okay."

"You telling me that or yourself?"

"..."

A moment ticks by and she is suddenly very aware of how rapid and shallow her breaths have become.

"Beckett?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"I think it's happening."

"Shit, try to relax. Just... dammit, just keep breathing."

She could not do as he instructed. Her breathing stopped seconds later and she laid there, feeling her heartbeat pound in her ears.

"Kid? You still there? Kid!"

She tried to form words, failed. Tried to drag air into her aching lungs, failed. Tears leaked from her eyes and she desperately wished for comfort. Then, from the front of the house, came a voice.

"Rook? It's Hodges. I'm here with my team. Beckett called us."

Relief washed over her. 'Here!' She wanted to call out.

"Rook, we are coming in. If you can, give us a sign so we know where you are."

'I wish I could.' She thought bitterly. Her heart lurched in her chest, a sick, hot feeling that grew worse with each thudding beat. She was scared to close her eyes.

"Got her. Hodges, in here."

The voice was close and she felt the heat of the person as they knelt by her shoulder. His red hair told her immediately who it was. Seed.

She wanted to grimace, to roll her eyes, but simply existing was taking so much energy.

"Can you hear me, Rook?"

She blinked, nodded shakily. Her vision was fading.

"Can you breathe?"

She shook her head.

"Okay, hang on."

She heard him rustling in something by his hip. Now another body joined him, this one feminine. Sharpe.

They were talking, now, but it was starting to sound very distant. Her eyelids were heavy, her limbs made of lead.

"-ok. Rook!"

Seed was in her vision again, worry creasing his normally stoic face.

"I'm giving her the injection."

A pinch in her arm, she winced. Her heart skipped several times in a row, paused for moment, then nothing.

Hands were on her, hiking up her shirt and dancing over her throat. She heard Seed's rough voice giving instructions, but she couldn't make out what he said. The hands on her chest began to press urgently on her sternum. 'Compressions' she realized sluggishly.

Something was sealed over her mouth and nose and air suddenly flowed into her lungs, sterile and cool. Her chest lifted, the hands upon it remaining as it did so, and then fell. Again, a puff of air passed into her before the compressions started again. Her eyes began to clear and she saw that it was Seed attempting to resuscitate her.

"Hold compressions." Hodges voice. Seed froze, not removing his hands.

"Got something?" He asked.

"Sinus rhythm. It's very slow, but she's there."

"Keep bagging. You back, Rook?"

Seed was bent over her, a hand on her forehead. She tried to speak, but couldn't. Nodded slowly.

"Good. We are going to keep breathing for you, okay? Don't fight the mask."

"Call Beckett. Let him know."

"Starting an IV."

The voices were all around her. She focused on the slow beat of her heart for a minute, trying to will it back into a more normal pace.

"Rook?"

"hm?"

"Don't ever do something that reckless again. Is that clear?"

drowning, plus size victim, one victim (F), multiple rescuers (F/M), CPR, unconscious heimlich/abdominal thrusts, chest compressions, mouth to mouth/rescue breathing

I lay my book down and leaned back in my lounger, listening to the waves against the dock. I sighed, enjoying the quiet afternoon on the lake. My partner was out fishing, and hopefully she would return with something to cook for dinner. Music from the cottage beside ours drifted over. It belonged to a young couple- mid twenties, Polly and Caleb- Caleb had inherited it from a family member after they passed. They were lovely, often sharing a drink with us in the evenings. They had a group of friends up this weekend, and they were partying on the dock and floating in the lake.

I drifted in and out of a light sleep, watching their antics in the water when I was awake. It made me nostalgic; I was only about 10 years their senior, but I felt fiercely protective towards them. Caleb waved at me before launching himself off the dock and into the lake. I smiled and waved back, sipping my seltzer before throwing a towel over my eyes and leaning back once more.

I woke soon after, sending a shift in the energy next door. I frowned, listening. There seemed to be panic and a lot of splashing, raised voices and shouting. Suddenly, I hear my voice being screeched in my direction-

“Cindi!”

I sit up, squinting my eyes towards Caleb and Polly’s dock. The group have all made their way either to shore or the dock, save for about four bodies still in the water. But it looked wrong…there was crying, hands frantically gesticulating, someone running back towards the cottage.

“Cindi!! Cindi, help us, please…”

I stand up, realizing they are pulling a body out of the water, towards the shoreline. The body is limp, supported by a Caleb and a friend of theirs. I clambered up, tripping over my feet in my shock before steadying myself. Polly’s waving her arms, frantic, calling to me. I sprinted up the dock and made my way to the shoreline, jumping over the small creek separating our properties. “I’m coming Polly, hang on!” I cry out. I watch as they finally deposit the lifeless body onto the grass, and disorganized chaos ensues. Polly crouches down and is shaking the woman’s shoulders, someone else is standing over them, another is calling to the unconscious woman. The smell of weed permeates the air and the table is littered with red solo cups and empty beer cans, ping pong balls littering the ground surrounding it. The voices become clearer as I approach, as does the urgency of the situation.

“Is she breathing?”

“Kelly! Kelly wake up-”

“Call 911!”

“CPR! She needs-”

“I can help!” I call as I approach, realizing with a sinking feeling that I’m probably the most sober person here. Caleb had started chest compressions, but they were too gentle; not deep enough to do any good. Not in the right spot on the broad chest beneath his hands. Not fast enough. I think back to my unfinished seltzer, grateful I was only about halfway through my first drink of the day. I drop to my knees beside the young woman, lifeless, her lips parted and head tilted to the side. Her thick arms lay stretched outwards at her sides, soft belly jiggling each time Caleb pushed on her chest, breasts dangerously close to falling out of her purple bikini, askew after being dragged out of the water. Wet clumps of hair stick to her forehead.

“Here, let me help” I urge, placing a gentle hand on Caleb’s arms, pushing him back. He looks up, eyes wide, and a pitiful, scared whimper escapes him. “What happened? How long was she under?” I asked, leaning in and feeling for breaths. I dig my fingers into her neck, searching for a pulse through soft folds of skin. I frown, unsure if I feel anything. I moved my fingers to her wrist instead and waited. A faint, rapid pulse was present, but it was fading…

“I don’t know, I just noticed she was underwater and then was floating and not responding to anything” a young woman cried, lips trembling. “Caleb helped me haul her out of the water”. I nodded, focused but listening. Kelly’s mouth was open, her face slack, a tiny grunting sound escaping her lips, widening and closing intermittently. Agonal breathing. I frowned, realizing she wasn’t passing air independently. A thought crossed my mind…

“Did she take anything?” I asked, eyeing the baggie of weed on the table. There were no other supplies or substances, but still...it was possible. The group looked at each other, unsure. “I don’t think so, she usually just drinks, uh…”

“Does she need narcan?” I clarified, not looking up as I repositioned Kelly’s head to open her airway. “No judgment, just trying to get her the help she needs-”. “No” Polly said, cutting me off, “Kelly’s been clean for two years, she’s only been drinking today”. “You’re sure?” I ask, checking her pulse once more, pressing hard through the layers of soft skin of Kelly’s neck, only to be met by a few weak and irregular thumps. Polly nodded, tears in her eyes.

Kelly was in trouble, and she needed help. I looked up, finding Caleb. “Caleb, call 911. Drowning victim, unresponsive. CPR in progress. Now!” I said, forcing myself to be calm.

I pinched Kelly’s nostrils shut and tiled her chin up towards the sky. I inhaled and pressed my lips around hers, the sour taste of beer lingering on her mouth. I delivered my breath back to Kelly but met resistance, air escaping as her full cheeks puffed out, breaking the seal. I frowned, trying again. This time, water forced its way past Kelly’s lips and into my mouth. I gagged in surprise, coughing, turning her face away from mine. “Help me get her on her side, there’s water in her lungs” I coughed out, watching the water spill from her mouth. I grasped her love handles and heaved, struggling to turn her deadweight body over. Polly’s hands appeared and pushed, and we balanced Kelly on her side. I bent down, wrenching Kelly’s mouth open as more water passed over her lips and pooled under her face. It kept coming. I stood on my knees and stretched my arm over her large body and thumped her back several times, the water falling from her mouth slowly fading to a trickle.

“Okay, on her back” I order, and Polly helps me ease Kelly back, adjusting her arms out of the way. Quickly, I try again to deliver some rescue breaths. They go in, her chest rising somewhat, but not entirely. Then, I shift to chest compressions. I sit up and wedge the heel of my hand into the valley between Kelly’s heavy breasts, sagging outwards towards her sides. I place my other hand on top and lock my elbows, stacking my shoulders over my wrists. I press down, compressing her chest deep in rapid succession, quickly realizing this was going to take more effort than I anticipated due to Kelly’s size. I lean forward, using my body weight to slam down again and again, forcing Kelly’s chest to bow under my weight.

“…13, 14, 15, 16…” I count out loud, hearing a tiny grunt with each compression escape Kelly’s lips. I looked up, taking in the people crowding around us. Most looked scared, confused, afraid. Caleb was on the phone, giving the address of the cottage. Polly was holding a young woman in her arms, rubbing her back. I locked eyes with one of the friends who stood looked calmer than the others. “…22, 23, 24- You, what’s your name?…28, 29, 30” I asked, pausing to give Kelly two rescue breaths. Her chests rises and falls in shallow bursts. I still meet some resistance when I breath into her mouth, encouraging her lungs to restart.

“Dan” the guy mutters.

I return my hands back to Kelly’s chest, slamming my weight down to push her chest deep enough and force her heart to pump. I look back up, meeting Dan’s eyes. “…4, 5, 6, 7- Dan, come help me, it’s easy” I lied, already feeling my endurance being tested, “I’ll explain every step- 19, 20, 21, 22…”

Dan approaches and drops to his knees, watching Kelly’s soft body ripple and roll with each chest compression. A grunt accentuates each compression, coming from deep inside her half empty lungs. “Put your hands over mine- yep, that’s it- and when I say, you’re going to push hard and fast, straight down into Kelly’s chest to make her heart beat, okay? I’m going to give her two breaths now, put your hands down when I move mine away, got it?”

Dan nodded, placing his hands on Kelly’s chest, nestling his hands between her breasts. He watched Kelly’s chest rise and fall twice as I breathed for her. “Okay, Dan, now. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5…” I counted out loud for him. I reached out and pulled his shoulders forward, allowing more of his body weight to do the work of chest compressions on Kelly’s large body. “That’s it, keep going Dan…27, 28, 29, 30, stop” I announce, delivering two more rescue breaths to Kelly. I nod at Dan, “okay, again, 1, 2, 3, 4…” he compresses Kelly’s thick chest, her breasts finally wriggled free of her bikini top, lolling with the force of each compression.

Suddenly, a faint pop emanates from Kelly’s body and Dan falters with his compressions, pausing. He looks horrified, gazing up at me. “Keep going, it’s okay” I urge, nodding my head. Dan looks down “I don’t want to hurt her” he whispered softly. “You can’t” I urged “you’re helping her heart beat, she can’t do that on her own right now” I said. Dan steeled himself and closed his eyes, once again slamming his weight down into Kelly’s chest. “I’ll take over compressions next round” I offer, and Dan just nods silently.

A gurgle and another spout of lake water erupts from Kelly’s mouth. I lunge forward and turn her head to the side so she won’t choke. “On her side!” I command, and Dan helps to maneuver Kelly onto her side. Dark lake water poured from her mouth…so much water. I frown, unsure exactly how to manage the water in her lungs. Figuring nothing can make the situation worse, I balled up a fist and nestled it into Kelly’s tummy and pushed in. Water surged from her mouth. An idea struck me…should I try the Heimlich maneuver?

We rolled Kelly onto her back once more and I weighed my options. She was too heavy to pull into a seated position by myself and I was unsure I could reach my arms around her waist and effectively deliver the abdominal thrusts in the right spot. I swung myself over Kelly’s large hips, my knees just barely grazing the ground on either side of her soft body as I straddled her. I shape my hands into fists and lodge them into the soft skin above the waist band of her bikini, and brace myself before slamming forward, in and up into her diaphragm. Kelly’s body lurches in response, her head rolling to the side as another spout of lake water erupts from her mouth, splashing back down around her. “Jesus” I exclaimed, alarmed but pleased at the effectiveness of the impromptu Heimlich maneuver. I thrust again, grunting with effort, my fists disappearing into Kelly’s round belly. Muddy water pours from her mouth, emptying her lungs. I looked around, noticing Caleb had taken Dan’s place on the ground. “Caleb, turn her head and hold it steady so she doesn’t choke or swallow any more water”. Caleb nodded, hands gently cradling Kelly’s head and holding it steady as she rocked back and forth with each abdominal thrust I delivered into her soft, thick body. The water slowed, replaced by a grunting sound as her lungs emptied of water and was finally replaced by air.

Caleb noticed this change too, and he quickly repositioned Kelly’s head and breathed deep into her mouth. Kelly’s chest rose fully, unencumbered, finding no resistance in her lungs. Her belly expanded under my hands. “Okay, good, keep breathing for her” I encouraged Caleb. Still straddling Kelly’s waist, I dig my knuckles into her sternum, calling to her. She remains unresponsive. I reach forward and plunge my fingers back into the folds of her neck, still unable to feel a pulse. I clamber off Kelly and fall to her side.

“Okay Caleb, Kelly needs our help, two more breaths then I’ll resume chest compressions” I pant, ignoring my fatigue. I position myself and wedge my hands between Kelly’s breasts once more, the centre of her chest red from the assault of hands against her chest. I grimaced; I knew CPR was brutal, but I’d never done it in a real person, just on the mannequins during class.

Caleb and I work together, breathing for Kelly and pumping her chest, urging life to return to her body. Suddenly, a gasp and a weak, wet sounding gurgle comes from Kelly and she stirs. “Stop! Stop, she might be coming around” I hear Caleb say, feeling his hand on my shoulder. I pause, keeping my hands in position on her chest. I feel it tremble and rise weakly, once, twice, then fall still again. Caleb leans close and calls gently to Kelly. No response.

“No, no, no, fuck” I say, exhausted, preparing myself to continue chest compressions with needed vigour, adrenaline pumping in my veins. “1, 2, 3, 4, 5…” I count out loud, now in autopilot. Kelly’s breasts finally bounce free from her bikini top, bouncing in rhythm with my chest compressions. “Come on Kelly, come on!…17, 18, 19, 20…” I count to thirty and Caleb provides another rescue breath, leaning back in to deliver the second one when Kelly once again gurgles and gasps, her eyebrows drawing together. “Kelly??” he asks, tapping her cheek, “Kelly, breathe. Open your eyes Kelly” he urges her. She groans, but it’s unclear if she is awake or not. I sit back, hands still on Kelly’s chest just in case, feeling a faint flutter in her chest under my hands. I dig my fingers once again into her neck, feeling a beat. I check at her wrist, confirming.

“Her pulse is back” I say, breathless. Caleb looks at me and nods. “Kelly, deep breaths, come on, you’ve got it” he encouraged her, brushing her wet hair out of her face. Her chest continues to rise and fall; shallow and weak, but steady. “Okay, she’s breathing and her heart is beating. She might still have water in her lungs, so let’s get her into the recovery position” I say. Caleb nods, and I quickly manhandle her breasts back into her bikini top, though any semblance of privacy feels pointless now. We position her arms and work together to heave Kelly onto her side, keeping her airway open. Caleb keeps a soothing hand on her back, rubbing gentle strokes up and down Kelly’s broad back. I watch as her ribcage expands and falls; still breathing, as her eyes slowly blink and flutter open halfway. She groans, low and pained.

“Kelly, keep breathing, you’re okay. 911 is in their way and should be here shortly to help you and bring you to the hospital” I say, leaning close to her face. Kelly’s eyes are glassy and dazed, but she nods weakly, wincing, reaching a shaky hand for her chest. I grab her hand and keep it still. “We just did CPR on you, you weren’t breathing and your heart was struggling. Your chest and ribs are going to be sore for a while, but you’re okay. 911 is on their way to asses you” I reminded her. “We pressed on your belly pretty hard too, to get the water out of your lungs” I added. Kelly nodded and closed her eyes. I tapped her cheek, “keep your eyes open, Kelly, that’s it, good girl” I said as she sluggishly blinked her eyes open once more. “You’re going to be okay”, I said, finding Caleb’s eyes, smiling and sharing a look of relief.

conscious choking in public, heimlich maneuver/abdominal thrusts, back slaps, one victim (F), one rescuer (M)

‘here :)’ Violet sent a text to the group chat, letting her girlfriends know she was the first one to arrive. She looked around, tossing her brown wavy hair over her shoulder and walked up to the bar, ordering a caesar. She thanked the bartender and started a tab. It was that kind of night. A recent breakup with her long term partner Adam had her feeling…complicated. They were growing in different ways and still cared for each other, but were better off as friends, not lovers. Still, it hurt and was painful, and Violet needed a distraction.

Violet took a sip of the caesar, enjoying the savoury drink, waiting for her girlfriends. She enjoyed people watching. She scanned the crowd, recognizing some familiar faces. But one stood out in particular. Her stomach dropped and she spluttered on her drink, coughing, wiping her chin clumsily.

Adam. He approached, a lopsided smirk lifting the right side of his mouth, bringing out his dimples. “Am I dreaming, or is that-”

“What are you doing here Adam?” Violet demanded, trying to regain some composure, a tickle still stuck in her throat. She downed at him, anger simmering in her chest. He stared at Violet, incredulous. “It’s a small town Violet, there’s like three bars total, we were bound to run into each other eventually” he said, tilting his head. He looks Violet up and down, taking in her black dress, wavy brown hair and makeup, “why, what are you doing here? Are you on a date?”.

Violet blushed, fidgeting with her phone. Where are my friends? Violet thinks to herself, feeling annoyed. “I’m meeting the girls here for drinks” she mumbled, “then we’re going to watch my coworker’s band perform across the street”. Adam smiled, genuinely pleased. Violet suppressed an eye roll. “Oh yeah? Well, I’m heading there too, small world. I know the drummer.” Adam said.

Violet stared at him; “Yeah Adam, I know you know the drummer” she snapped. His face fell. Violet didn’t mean to be rude, but she was really looking forward to this distraction from heartache tonight. She sighed, gripping her caesar glass. Violet shook her head, “sorry” she mumbled. They locked eyes and Adam’s lower lip pouted. “Wow, an apology, was that so hard Vi?” he sneered. Violet could hear the joking tone, but she wasn’t in the mood.

Violet rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Adam” she scoffed. She raised the caesar glass to her lips and downed the rest of it, more for something to do than anything else, hoping the conversation would end. She picked up the garnish spear from the empty glass and popped an olive into her mouth, holding it on her tongue, focusing on the salty flavour, trying to ground herself. Someone bumped into her from behind, knocking her forward in her seat, squeezing her against the bar top for a moment. It wasn’t intentional, or particular rough, but it was just enough to make her current situation worse.

Suddenly, Violet couldn’t breathe properly. The olive had slid to the back of her mouth before she even had a chance to chew it, and perched at the top of her throat. The sensation surprised her, the briney flavour burning her nose. Violet focused, trying to move the olive back up with her tongue, but the slippery olive disobeyed her and slid further down, inching its way towards her airway. Panic flared inside of her, but Violet tried to stay calm. She kept her mouth closed and tried inhaling through her nostrils, but realized with horror that this was the wrong move as the olive slipped further back, seemingly in slow motion, and wedged itself fully at the top of her trachea, blocking any airflow.

Violet’s gag response activated, but nothing happened, other than an awkward shift in her seat. Her hands stilled at the edge of the bar top as she tried unsuccessfully to clear her throat. She was choking; honest god, full on choking. She couldn’t cough, breathe, or speak. She was scared, alarmed at how quickly things had escalated, how urgent and lethal it felt. Violet looked around and pulled at Adam’s sleeve, trying to get his attention back. Adam looked down at her, smirking.

“What’s up Vi, you good?” Adam asked, raising an eyebrow. Cocky asshole Violet thought to herself. Violet didn’t respond; rather, she seemed to curl in on herself and gag, but no noise came out. She raised a shaking hand to her chest and tried to swallow, a pained look spreading across her face. “Vi? Vi, you good?” Adam repeated, reaching out a hand to Violets shoulder. Violet didn’t respond. Maybe she didn’t hear him? “Hey, Violet, look at me…” Adam leaned in, frowning, concern flickering across his features. Violet wrapped her hands around her throat, mouth opening and closing, surprise replacing the pain on her face. She tried swallowing again, another silent grimace, then heaved without noise as if she were going to be sick. Violet slammed her right hand onto the bar, causing her empty glass to rattle, left hand still gripping her throat. She turned to Adam, frantic, pointing at her throat, mouth hanging open. Violet’s eyes brown eyes were wide and glassy, frantically searching Adam’s face, urging him to understand.

“Are you okay?” Adam asked, genuine concern in his voice, noting the energy shift between them after their banter. Their breakup had been painful for both of them, but amicable. He’d never seen Violet act like this before, and lord knows she never stayed silent longer than a few seconds. “Vi? Violet, are you okay?” Adam asked again, urgency lacing his voice. Violet shook her head no, hair falling into her face. Violet’s mouth open and closed, not a single noise, not seven a gasp escaping from her full lips. She closed her eyes and banged a fist to her chest, her cleavage peeking out the top of her black dress.

“Holy shit, you’re choking? You’re choking! Shit!” Adam exclaimed, standing up. Before Violet could even nod her head, Adam was pounding her back with his large hand, palm audibly smacking the bare skin between her shoulder blades. Violet rocked forward with each back slap, nearly toppling off her stool. She gripped the bar top and braced herself against the pounding on her back, still working to clear her airway, still silent, still suffocating.

Violet felt a flush spreading across her cheeks- lack of oxygen and embarrassment Violet thought unhelpfully to herself. Violet squeezed her eyes shut, trying to focus on clearing her airway, fingertips scrabbling at the tiny lump she could feel through the skin on her throat. “Vi! Vi, talk to me….” She heard Adam’s low voice urging her. Her eyes flew open, startled to see Adam leaning so close into her line of vision. Violet tried to talk, but her voice remained stuck behind the olive lodged in her airway.

A freaking olive. Violet was appalled at the absurdity of the situation; unable to breath because an olive was blocking her airway after she childishly downed her drink, at a bar waiting for her girlfriends to enjoy a couple drinks before starting their night out, only to choke and have her life relying on the hands of her ex. The universe is cruel sometimes Violet thought dully to herself.

“Vi! Violet, can you breathe?” Adam’s voice brought Violet back to the present. She looked into Adam’s concerned eyes and shook her head, pointing to her throat again. Adam disappeared behind her and she felt his arms slide around her waist, fingers frantically poking around her belly before settling above her naval. She braced herself, knowing that the Heimlich maneuver was coming. Adam thrust his fists up into Violet’s ribcage. Violet’s mouth opened in surprise; she would have called out in pain if she could pass any air.

Another painful thrust; Violet’s head flew back, knocking against Adam’s chest, lolling to the side as more abdominal thrusts racked her body. Yet her throat remained stubbornly blocked, still choking on the olive. Adam’s arms disappeared from around her, sending her toppling off her seat. She caught herself against the bar top, gripping it for support, half leaning, half standing. Violet was aware of how bizarre they must look right now; flustered and flushed, slumping over the bar, spit pooling in the corner of her mouth, thick brown hair thrown in waves around her shoulders, her ex alternating between pounding her back and delivering powerful Heimlich maneuvers into her aching abdomen.

Adam’s hand forced Violet’s face up towards his, his green eyes searching her face. “Violet, come on” he growled, opening her mouth and peering in. Violet grimaced, tapping Adam’s wrists, urging him back into action as she unsuccessfully tried coughing, her body heaving uselessly. Another round of firm back slaps between her shoulder blades. Violet noticed a bartender approaching, and was faintly aware of the small crowd that had gathered around them. Violet wanted to curl into a ball and die- don’t think like that she scolded herself, not now. The world lurched with each painful thrust Adam delivered into her aching tummy, her ribcage protesting with sharp pains. Pressure built behind her sternum, so close to bursting, her vision blurring with tears, when suddenly-

Pop!

A gag, followed by a desperate wheeze and a weak, unproductive cough. Violet grasped Adam’s strong arms still yanking into her waist, keeping her upright. “Vi? Vi, cough it out, that’s it, come on…” Adam urged, shaking her body with desperation. Violet jostled in his arms, dizzy and lightheaded, and tried to cough. A pitiful noise escaped her throat; the olive had shifted enough to allow some air to pass, but was still wedged firmly in her throat. Violet slapped her palm flat to her chest, desperate to clear her throat.

“I can’t- hurkkkk- get it- hngggg- out” Violet gagged out. Adam rubbed Violet’s back, but she needed more than that. She still couldn’t breathe properly. “Adam, h-help me, please-” her voice was cut off by a wet squelching sound, her airway convulsing, trying to rid the blockage from her throat.

Adam seems to understand and slammed her back several more times. Violet stamped her foot and slammed the bar counter in front of her, frustrated, scared, and angry. Violet drew in a shallow, ragged breath. She attempted a self-Heimlich maneuver, but Adam moved quickly. “No no, let me, here”. He stepped behind her once more and laced his fingers over hers, thrusting both of their fists up under Violet’s ribcage.

“Huckkkk”

Another thrust, “huggggff”

One more, “gckkkakkk”

And suddenly, the olive released itself from its lethal hold on Violet’s throat, popping out like it hadn’t just held her life in peril. It bounced onto the table in front of Violet, glistening in the low light of the bar, mocking her. Violet stared, appalled at how small it was.

Violet gasped a painful inhale, followed by a rough, dry cough. She wheezed, sagging in Adam’s arms. “Violet! Violet, stay with me…Violet?” His voice urged, lips brushing against her left ear. Violet panted, eyes closed, nodding her head, weakly patting his hands still wrapped around her waist. “Violet, talk to me. Vi? Vi, come on, breathe, you’re okay, you’re okay, just breathe…” Adam rambled, voice shaking, “…breathe, you’re good right Vi? Vi, say something, breathe, come on Violet, brea-”.

“I, I’m okay” Violet gasped out, cutting him off, voice shaky and weak. Violet felt a long exhale of relief leave Adam’s body, their bodies melting together. They stayed there for a moment, Adam’s arms keeping Violet upright, the back of her head resting on Adam’s chest, his chin resting atop her shiny brown waves. Violet’s knees were wobbly as oxygen returned to her with an intense head rush. “I’m dizzy” she mumbled, reaching for the bar and propping herself up on her elbows. She was aware of Adam’s reluctance to let her go, but she was overwhelmed by the intensity and the unexpected intimacy of her choking incident. She drew in a slow breath, throat burning, mouth watering, eyes squeezed shut tight as she tried to calm down. She dry heaved, and bile rose up her throat, but she swallowed it down. She dropped her forehead into her hands, chest heaving with each desperate inhale filling her greedy lungs.

“Let’s step outside, get some fresh air” Adam whispered to Violet, and she nodded weakly. He firmly gripped her bicep and helped her up, quickly readjusting her dress for her before slipping a $20 bill to the bartender and guiding Violet away from the crowd. She leaned into him, legs weak, lightheaded, allowing him to take more of her weight as he slipped her arm around his waist. They got outside and he propped her against the brick wall, and he leaned in, placing his hands against the wall above her shoulders and examining her face. She could smell his cologne; the one she bought him for his birthday last year

“Breathe Violet, Jesus…you’re sure you’re okay, yeah?” He asked again, genuine concern drawing his brows together. Violet nodded weakly, pressing a hand to her ribs gingerly and wincing. “I’m okay, that was just…a lot all at once” Violet mumbled. “Yeah…just focus on breathing, in and out” Adam’s eyes anxiously searched her face. “Did I hurt you?” he whispered, his eyes dropping to her lips. Violet licked her lips, flustered, and shook her head. He glanced down, eyes lingering at her cleavage, and placed a hand overtop of Violet’s, resting against her ribs. She wondered if he too could feel her heart beating overtime, pounding against her ribcage. A tear slowly trickled down her cheek. They breathed together, gasping, chests heaving and hitching as adrenaline slowly left their systems.

“Look at these two lovebirds!! Ow owww” a familiar voice called out. Startled, Adam and Violet looked up together, drawing apart. Three women, Violet’s girlfriends, approached, laughing and looking smug. “Sneaking away for some private time? You dirty little dogs, I called it. I knew you two would…wait, what’s wrong?”. They stopped, taking in Violet’s flushed and tear stained face, Adam’s pale and worried face, and the way that Violet held her ribs.

Full video here!

https://drive.proton.me/urls/JZYKJ02MRM#uvphbUbPtdPh

Name: A.Heredia Age: 19 years old. Status: Cardiac Arrest after overexercise at the gym. Her sport-bra was removed. Start CPR.

Figured I’d redo my commission sheet a little, and include the option to commission a fic. I’m willing to draw or write pretty much anything that doesn’t involve real people or minors! Furries, minor gore, size difference- there’s not much I’ll turn down.