You Never Needed Help

I kept seeing Gerard. He suddenly seemed to be everywhere. Every bar, every corner. I was getting sick of it. I was doing my rounds once and I saw him in the alley outside his building, sucking some guy’s dick. I kept driving. That night, I started digging, trying to find him on social media and in police records. Eventually I found a website that listed him as an ‘escort.’ That was a good start. I printed off some of the evidence and slipped it into a Manila folder. I wasn't busy the next day, so I decided to run by his apartment and knock on his door. I didn't plan on arresting him, despite the illegality of his profession. I wanted to talk to him. He was young, he still had time to turn around.

Pete insisted on coming with me. I told him no over and over, but he got in the car anyway. I gave up. As I drove to the building, Pete wouldn't stop muttering something along the lines of ‘I told you so.’ He was my best friend and I wanted to slap him so bad.
I parked and got out of the car, making sure I had everything I needed. I opened the door to the building and started up the stairs to Gerard's third floor apartment. I found it eventually, tucked away basically under the stairs. The carpet in the hallway was ratty and smelled like pee. Pete wrinkled his nose as I knocked on the door.
“Gerard? Open up! It's Officer Iero, I want to talk to you.”
I didn't get a reply. I knocked again and sighed when I got no response, pulling out one of the papers I'd printed earlier. I called his cellphone as listed, and seconds later, I could hear it go off in the apartment. I frowned and slipped my phone away, testing the doorhandle. It was unlocked. Pete followed me inside and I froze up in shock.

The whole place reeked of blood. Gerard was facedown on the floor, and I could see his shirt was soaked in blood. Pete gasped and tugged his phone out. I put my hand over his quickly. “Hey. Don't call an ambulance, yeah? I don't think he can pay for that.”
Pete frowned, then glanced around. The tiny bed was shoved up in one corner of the minuscule apartment. There wasn't a kitchen, couch, tv, or fridge of any kind. He had nothing. I crouched down and checked his pulse. “He's still alive.”
Pete handed me a pair of scissors and I cut his shirt open, pulling it away from his wounds. He had been stabbed three times in the lower back. I grabbed a sheet off the bed and ripped it into two strips, tying one around his wounds, the other wadded up against them. I carefully rolled him over, checking the rest of his body. There was a cut on his head that was shallow, but bleeding badly. I couldn't see any other external injuries. I tossed Pete the keys. “We gotta get him to the hospital. I'll sit in the back and keep pressure on the wounds.”
Pete nodded and jogged out of the apartment as I scooped up the small kid. Gerard's head lolled against my chest lifelessly and I winced, hurrying out of the building.
The car ride was possibly the most stressful thing I'd ever experienced. Pete put the lights on and I stayed in the back, pushing down on Gerard's stab wounds. I kept checking his pulse, not wanting to lose him. As soon as we got to the hospital, a nurse took him from me and I suddenly felt alone.
The panic that had been gripping me for the last fifteen minutes faded and I collapsed into a waiting room chair. Pete sat down next to me, smiling at me a little sadly. “We’re off duty now, y’know. If you wanna stay here.”
I nodded slightly, staring at the floor. “He's so young, Pete..”
My partner sighed and leaned back. “You'll see worse, Frank.”
I rolled my eyes. “I know! I’m just a rookie, blah blah blah. But this is the first time I've seen anything like this-”
“Calm down, Frank. I know. I'm not trying to say that you don't know what you're talking about or that this isn't hard. Take a deep breath. Just wait. He's only three years younger than you.”

Gerard had been hit in the head and knocked out before he'd been stabbed, explaining the lack of struggle signs. I really did feel bad for the kid. He didn't deserve to be attacked, no one did. No one came to see him, to check on him. I had his cellphone, and no one even called him. After about four hours, he was awake, and the nurse let me in to talk to him.
He looked so tiny on the broad white bed. His body was tucked up, his hair spread out on the pillow. His eyes were closed, but I could tell he wasn't asleep. His chest rose and fell slowly, calmly.
I touched his wrist gently. “Gerard...I need to fill out a report.”
He shifted and lifted his middle finger at me weakly. I chuckled softly and rolled my eyes. “Please? I saved your life, you kinda owe me some paperwork help.”
Gerard reached around and pressed the button to raise the top half of the bed. He wriggled back onto the pillows comfortably and looked over at me. His eyes were empty.
“One of my clients did this to me.”
I nodded and started taking notes.
“His name was Max Guon and he hit me in the head with a baseball bat. He was angry because I refused to have sex with him when he admitted to me he couldn't pay. He came to my apartment the next day and attacked me. He's a little unhinged, I think.”
I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “And it doesn't bother you? Like, that you almost died?”
“You can't die if you never started living, Frank.”

Notes