#heimlich

Character Update Part 2

Wahoo! I had fun doing this :) Looks like it's still not responsive... what next? 🤔

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(Cw - choking, heimlich, crying/comfort, slight emeto warning)

He was eating alone at the dinner table when a sudden noise from outside the window startled him. With a short gasp and jump, he turned his head to look out and see nothing, must have been an animal. He turns his head back and almost instantly, whatever that noise was becomes the least of his worries. Feeling a large, painful blockage deep within his throat, he brought his napkin to his mouth and attempted to cough it out, but all he could manage was a silent gag. His eyes widen as he realizes he can’t make any noise, he can’t pass any air, he’s really choking.

His chair makes a loud scraping sound against the kitchen floor as he pushes himself back, clutching his throat as his stomach heaves for air, and drool begins to fall from his pale lips.

The loud sound of his chair alerts me from the other room.

“Hey, you okay in there?” I ask loudly, continuing to fold the laundry I was busy with. I wait a second, but there’s no response besides the sound of his feet as he walks around the kitchen. I was willing to assume he just didn’t hear me, but as his footsteps became heavier and more frantic, I drop what I’m doing and head to check on him.

Before walking through the door way I see his plate still sitting on the table, half eaten with his silverware and napkin strewn across the table. Fully entering the kitchen, I see him hunched over the sink. “Are you okay?” I ask again, but just like before there’s no response. Walking over towards him, I rest my hand on his back trying to figure out what’s wrong, when I feel his back trembling under my palm. His torso heaves violently as he weakly thrusts his stomach into his fists resting against the counter. He gags again before raising his head to look at me, eyes dazed and swaying on his feet as his senses begin to fade. He’s paler than ever, a blue tone taking over him as a deep purple creeps up his neck and flushes his lips and ears. I immediately understand the problem as he wraps his bluish fingers around his throat and saliva covers his mottled purple lips and chin, and his unnaturally blue tongue hangs over his lips with every involuntary gag. Tears fall from his bloodshot eyes and his entire body trembles, but I waste absolutely no time flipping him around and wrapping my arms tightly around his waist, positioning him for the Heimlich maneuver. He grips my arms tightly, fidgeting around and frantically hitting his chest. Before I can even prepare to start helping, he throws himself against my arms in a desperate attempt to clear his airway, a deep choking sound emanating from his throat.

I pull my fists up and into his stomach, the soft flesh right beneath his ribcage quivering with every thrust as I promise him he’s going to be okay, and that I’m going to get the blockage out and get him the air he needs. I can feel him getting heavier with each passing second as his grip on my arms grows weaker. His frantic movements become slow and drowsy as he loses the battle to stay awake. His body twitches from oxygen deprivation and I can feel his stomach muscles relaxing, as he loses the strength to keep trying to cough.

I muster all my strength for one last thrust into his abdomen before he fully loses consciousness. His feet are momentarily lifted off the ground, and his head lolls back and rests on my shoulder. I catch a quick glimpse of his face and he’s a shade of purple that I didn’t think was physically possible, his mouth and eyes wide open, before his completely limp body falls back down into my arms. His knees buckle as he loses all strength to stand, and I gently lower him to the floor, cradling his head with one hand to be as gentle as possible with him.

He lays on his back as I throw one leg over his hips, straddling his still form. His half lidded eyes are glossy and unfocused, looking somewhere past me, and his dark purple lips are slightly parted as drool spills down his cheek, pooling on the floor beside his head. His throat bobs and his chest weakly twitches as his unconscious body tries in vain to breathe.

I curl my thumb over his lower teeth, forcing his mouth open as I use my other hand to hold his head still, gently cradling the nape of his neck. I peer into his mouth, but I see nothing in the back of his throat. I feel his pulse, weak but there, so I clasp my fists together and reposition them to the same place I was pulling into during the abdominal thrusts. In this position I have much more leverage, the pressure feels more useful. I push my fists deep into his stomach over and over again, as quickly as possible. His head tilts to the side as drool and mucus puddle on the floor beneath his mouth and nose. A deep, nearly silent gurgling sound comes from his mouth with every compression to his stomach. This is taking entirely too long, he needs to breathe right now.

As I quickly position myself to sit beside him, I once again force his mouth open and sweep the excess fluids out with my finger. I grasp the nape of his neck again and slightly lift him, straightening his neck and allowing me to see straight into his throat. This time when I look, the obstruction is near the top of his airway. It feels almost violent the way I shove my fingers deep into his esophagus, maneuvering them under the blockage and slowly pulling them out. I quickly sweep the food out of his mouth and onto the floor. I could hear the release of suction, and a small, wet exhale of the old air that had run out as he asphyxiated. I immediately pressed his cold, wet lips to mine, pinching his nose and breathing deeply into his lungs as I cradle him in my lap. His arms hang limply as I hold him close to me, continuing to breathe for him.

Thankfully, with each rescue breath I can feel his pulse getting stronger, faster and more stable. By the fifth breath, he began to cough weakly as he exhaled the air I gave him. Before I could give him another breath, he sharply inhaled on his own, it was strained and shortly cut off by more hacking. As I held him in my arms waiting for him to come back, I watched as with each breath he took on his own, his eyes became more focused, and his limbs began to twitch once again. I gently stroke his hair as I position his head and upper half to be lying on his side, making sure his airway stays clear as he regains his consciousness. His weak cough turns into violent hacking which fills his face with color, going back to a normal flushed tone. I gently pat his back as he lays on his side, occasionally gagging from the intensity of the coughing fit. He inhales huge, desperate breaths of fresh air between each wet gag and strained cough. Tears fill his eyes as he looks around, his hands grabbing to hold onto anything he can. I take his hand and gently pull him up to my chest. He’s sitting on my lap, chest to chest as I pat his back, holding him tightly. He cries into my shoulder, asking in between gasps what happened and, “why do I hurt so much, my throat hurts so bad.”

I gently explain that he choked as I continue comforting him, letting him know I’ll always be here and keep him safe. I pick him up and carry him over towards the counter, setting him down right next to the sink as I fill up a glass of water for him. He finishes it quickly, and I gently ask “Would you like to go lay down? I know you probably don’t feel very good right now, my love.” He nods his head, sniffling and rubbing his eyes as I pick him back up and head towards the bedroom.

A servant girl accustomed to keeping a respectful distance casts off her fear of impropriety when a noblewoman's life is on the line.

[F victim. F rescuer. Choking. Heimlich. Supine abdominal thrusts. Rescue breathing.]

Camilla noticed it first before anyone else. After a week of trading nonverbal quips with Signore Cellini’s daughter, she was accustomed to Stefania’s tells. That tight, pinched expression was so foreign on the face of a woman usually brimming with effortless charm. When the young noblewoman suddenly stopped eating and became flushed, Camilla assumed that she was feeling nauseous and was trying very hard not to be sick in front of her father’s important guests. Then, Stefania leapt up from the table and ran off with a hand over her mouth, which practically confirmed that assumption.

The brief stunned silence after Stefania’s departure rapidly dissolved into a burst of concerned murmuring from everyone at the table. Alonzo Cellini tried his best to smooth things over.

“Ah, my apologies Giancarlo, Lucia. It seems my daughter has taken ill.”

“Shame.” Giancarlo De Bardi paused, stifled a burp, then asked, “Did you see what she ate?”

Lucia De Bardi leaned towards her husband with a look of dawning horror and muttered, “Everyone is eating the same thing, darling.”

“You need not concern yourself with the food” Alonzo quickly interjected. “Stefania has been feeling out of sorts these last few days. It happens regularly. About the same time every month.”

Stefania’s mother shot him an exasperated look and started to rise, intending to check on her daughter, but Camilla held up a reassuring hand and said, “Allow me, Signora. Please, relax and enjoy your dinner.”

Without waiting to be dismissed, the servant girl left her post and darted out into the hall. She didn’t see which way Stefania had gone, if she had tried to make it to the nearest bath or if she headed out to the courtyard for some fresh air. A pained retching noise echoed from somewhere down the hall. Camilla’s skin prickled with concern as she followed the sound.

She rounded the corner, coming up behind Stefania. The nobles’ daughter was hunched over, red in the face, heaving indelicately. Camilla was suddenly unsure of herself. The Cellinis were her employers, and nobles tended to care a lot about saving face. Perhaps what Stefania really needed in this awkward moment was privacy.

But a cold sense of dread kept Camilla rooted to the spot. Stefania kept making those small, choked gulping noises, but the whole time Camilla had been watching her, she hadn’t heard the woman inhale. Concern overrode her sensibilities, and she approached Stefania.

“My Lady, forgive me. Are you alright? You left so suddenly.”

Camilla stepped around so that she was facing Stefania, placing both hands on her shoulders and gently urging her to stand upright. Camilla’s grip tightened in fear as she took in Stefania’s appearance. Her face, streaked with tears and saliva, was quickly fading from a deep red to ashen gray. Her bright, expressive eyes were dull and unfocused and her mouth moved wordlessly as she gasped for air.

“Are you choking?” Camilla asked, though she already knew the answer. “I’m sorry, I didn’t – I’m going to help you now! Hold on!”

Camilla stood behind Stefania, wrapping her chubby arms around her waist. “I’m going to push on your stomach to make you cough,” she explained as she cuffed her fist up under her breathless companion’s ribs. “This might hurt.”

Stefania didn’t resist, in fact, she seemed to lean into the touch. Camilla wouldn’t flatter herself by thinking that was intentional.

Please let this work, Camilla pleaded silently as she wrenched her fist into Stefania’s abdomen. No change. She tried it again.

There was a strained clicking noise coming from Stefania’s throat now. That’s progress, Camilla thought. She continued the thrusts, but never managed to elicit more than a small, guttural hiccup. Though her muscles burned from the effort, it felt like she wasn’t getting enough force to be useful. As she dug her hands in again, she felt the telltale criss-cross pattern of a front lacing kirtle under Stefania’s clothes. Is that thing getting in the way? Why are thin people so obsessed with looking even thinner?

Something brushed against Camilla’s thigh, startling a gasp out of her. Stefania’s hand dangled freely, bouncing against Camilla’s leg as she rocked into her with each thrust. She was beginning to go limp and would soon be unconscious, or worse.

“Oh no, nononono, you can’t! Just – just a little more. Come on now. Breathe. Breathe!”

Camilla’s voice was shrill with fear. She let out a choked sob when Stefania’s knees finally buckled, her dead weight dragging them both down to the floor.

With a moment of stillness, Camilla became aware of her own shallow, panting breaths. She held her breath for a few seconds and blew it out slowly, trying to calm her racing heart as she figured out what to do. Perhaps shamefully, she thought of running. She was terrified of what the Cellinis would do to her if they blamed her for their daughter’s death. Even if they didn’t, Camilla knew she would never stop blaming herself. She’d hesitated in the dining room, and again out in the hall. Her interference might not be enough to guarantee Stefania’s safety, but continued inaction would guarantee her death.

With that thought steeling her nerves, Camilla scrambled to her feet and raced into a nearby room, Alonzo’s office, where she knew he kept a thin blade for opening envelopes. She snatched it off his desk and returned to Stefania’s side. The dress her Lady had chosen for the evening was a deep midnight blue, with a V-neckline and puffed sleeves that were very fashionable now. It probably cost more than Camilla’s entire wardrobe. She tried not to think about that as she gripped the neckline with both hands and gave it a firm tug. The fabric tore in a jagged line right down the centre of the dress. Camilla pushed the excess material aside, hooked her blade under the now-exposed kirtle’s laces and slashed them all, from waist to breastbone, in one smooth motion. She cut through the chemise as well, first plucking it away from the skin to avoid drawing blood.

Camilla wasted no time as she swung a leg over Stefania’s supine form and straddled her hips. She began thrusting into Stefania’s abdomen with the heel of her hands, leaning into it with her full weight. The action felt more productive now with the tension gone from Stefania’s body and the layers of clothing out of the way. It took only a couple of tries to force a ragged wheeze out of her slack, blue lips.

When Stefania made no further effort to breathe, Camilla leaned forward and hooked a thumb over the unconscious woman’s bottom teeth, opening her mouth as wide as possible as she peered inside. There was something just barely visible at the back of her throat. Camilla swept a finger into her mouth to try to retrieve the object. Somehow, this felt more invasive than cutting her out of her dress just moments ago.

The object was just out of reach. With a frustrated huff, Camilla withdrew her hand and repositioned herself to continue abdominal thrusts. Her fear gradually gave way into a grim focus, and Camilla lost herself to the rhythm of this simple repetitive task. It was positively hypnotic the way Stefania’s shoulders shrugged and breasts jiggled in in time with Camilla’s determined thrusts. Camilla’s chest hitched with excitement at each grunt and strangled gasp she managed to wring out of the choking woman. She had to force herself to stop after hearing a particularly harsh gag to check if the obstruction had cleared. This time when she swept Stefania’s mouth, a large, almost completely intact piece of meat tumbled out and landed in a pool of saliva.

Camilla dove toward Stefania and sealed their lips together, breathing deeply into the other woman’s lungs. Stefania’s chest rose, causing her breasts to graze against Camilla’s. The feeling sent a pleasant shiver through Camilla’s whole body. She delivered another breath and Stefania’s lips twitched in response.

Stefania’s throat seized with a few breathless hacks before the first lungfull of air sent her back arching off the floor in desperate relief. Camilla knelt over her, too shaken to move, while Stefania thrashed and sputtered, still loosely trapped between Camilla’s thighs.

“It’s alright, my Lady,” Camilla murmured. “Stefania, you’re alright. Just breathe now.”

Watching the colour slowly return to Stefania’s face as she recovered filled Camilla with such warmth and satisfaction that she couldn’t resist reaching down to stroke a palm against her cheek. Nothing could ruin this moment.

“It’s been ages! Where could that girl have gone?”

Except perhaps the entire dinner party walking in on them and seeing the noble family’s daughter lying half-naked under one of the servants. Camilla jerked her head up, burning from shame as much as physical exertion. Stefania’s parents and Lucia De Bardi all wore terrifically scandalized expressions. Giancarlo De Bardi grinned slyly. Stefania’s little brother Benito pointed a grubby finger at the girls and brayed enthusiastically.

As she looked up at her father in a daze, this was the only time Stefania recalled ever seeing him at a loss for words.