Bleed, Everyone's Doing It

This is an entry for Normal Sinus Rhythm. Go check out this week's entries and leave some comments if you have the time!

I'm trying to be nice. His constant stream of expletives makes it hard, but I'm trying. Calmly, I ask him what's wrong. The deputy standing at the foot of the stretcher answers for him, since he won't answer for himself.
"He's hearing voices again, but that's no surprise since he hasn't taken his meds in a few weeks."
"Oh. Any idea what the voices want him to do?"
"Unsure, but they're certainly causing him distress."
"Violent?"
"Not as of now. Just...angry." She pauses, staring down at our patient, looking as if she's trying to predict the future.
"I don't think he'll be any trouble for you, just loud," she says nodding towards him, "but I'll be more than happy to ride with if you want."
Drew lifts his head up from taking our patient's pulse.
"I think we're good, Deputy," he says with that ridiculous smile of his that causes most everyone to forget their train of thought.
"Y...yeah, okay," she stammers. I giggle to myself as she leaves, obviously still thinking about that smile. I'm immune now, but boy I remember when...

"FUCK YOU!" interrupts my train of thought and--SMACK!
I don't really know what's going on, but Drew is on him in an instant, and I follow his lead. My eyes are stinging, and my nose is throbbing, but I haven't put it together yet.
Eric is in the back in seconds flat, and he sits on a shoulder as he calls for ALS. We need something to put this guy out, but we can't do it.
The deputy runs back to the medic, jumping in with handcuffs ready in hand. She restrains him somehow, but I'm not really paying attention.
I look down at our patient. He's bleeding. I don't know where from, but there's blood on his face.
"Drew, he's bleeding."
"What?"
"Look at his face, he's bleeding."
"Sam," he pauses, "Sam, that's your blood." His eyes flash with intense hatred as he pushes his elbow harder into our patient. It looks like he could spit, he's so angry.
"What?" I touch my hand to my face and it feels warm. I pull it away and my hand is covered in deep red. My lips start to taste like metal, and the smell of iron makes me dizzy.
"Who the hell do you think you are, hitting a woman, hitting my partner!?" Drew's voice cracks from anger.
"Fuck you," is all the response he gets.
Eric is off the radio now, joining the party more fully.
"ALS is in route," he says as he gently pushes our patient's head to the side.

Suddenly he goes limp beneath us. He's unconscious, but he's...not. I look at him a little puzzled, and tell Eric to move. My bloodied hand picks up his arm, holds it in front of his face, and lets it go. It falls down awkwardly, avoiding the inevitable smack to the face. Drew catches on.
"Oh, wow, he's unconscious," he says heavily.
"Yeah, I wonder what happened," Eric echoes.
"Wow, poor thing, we should really get going. At least he's not dangerous anymore." It's a little muffled through the gauze I've got coddling my nose, but I chime in as well.
I think I see a self satisfied smirk flash across his face as 500 collective pounds of human rise off of him, only to be replaced by some new silver bracelets.

The deputy rides with us all the way to the hospital, asking me every few seconds if I'm okay, and if I want to press charges. I'm too tired to think about legality, so instead I just tell her that I'll think about it.

When we leave the patient's room, Drew and Eric turn around simultaneously. They tell the deputy thanks and goodnight, and then shoot a look that could kill at the man in the bed. He spits their way, and Drew puts a protective arm around my shoulder.

"Asshole," he says as he squeezes my arm.