“No, she’s at home pouting.”
I feel my heart being crushed, I can’t breathe. She’s home alone, no one’s there with her. No one to help her.
The car jolts suddenly, and my seatbelt slams against my chest. I look up and see traffic, “fuck” I yell.
“Honey? What’s wrong?” I hear my mothers voice ask. My phone is in my hand, resting on my lap as I lose hope.
My sister is going to die.
I hang up, not giving a fuck if she’s pissed at me, I don’t care anymore. I’m going to lose my sister.
“I’m sorry man, I can’t get around it.”
“It’s okay. I understand.” I take a deep breath before slamming my fist into my thigh. “Fuck!” I yell, “Fuck fuck fuck!”
* * *
“Claire!” I scream, running into the house, she sent that text fifteen minutes ago.
I just hope I’m not too late.
I left the taxi driver and my bags sitting in the driveway, I don’t have time to grab all my shit. Everything in my bags is replaceable, my sister isn’t.
I rush up the stairs, running down the hall to her bedroom. The door’s unlocked so I barge in, I look around frantically, trying to catch sight of her. I look towards the bathroom, and see water leaking out from under the door.
It’s fucking locked.
“God damn it Claire!” I scream.
I slam my body into the door, hitting it as hard as I can until it busts from the door frame and swings open.
She’s under the water, her head is under the fucking water. I walk over, seeing a half empty pill bottle spilled out over the floor. The tap is still gushing water, leaking it all over the floor. I'm standing in a god damn puddle right now. I yank her out of the tub, laying her limp body onto the tiled floor and dial 911.
God, why didn’t I think about doing this earlier. The paramedics would have been here by now and I’ve wasted precious time… time that could be the death of her. Fuck I’m such an idiot.
“911 what’s your emergency?” The operator asks.
“Please, I need help. My sister, she isn’t breathing, I think she took a bunch of pills.”
I can barely think, my entire body is on high alert as I start CPR. I heave my body onto hers, sobbing and begging for her to come back.
“Don’t leave me. Please god don’t let her leave me. I need her here, she’s my light.”
“Sir, what’s your name?”
“Chris, my name is Chris” I stutter.
“Okay Chris, my name is Sheila. Do you know CPR?”
“Yes,” I say, wiping the tears from under my eyes, “I’m doing it right now.”
Her ribs snap under my weight, it makes me wince, but I know I’m doing it right, so I keep going. “Her ribs just broke.” I cry harder.
“That’s okay, it’s better for her to have a couple broken ribs, and live to deal with it than the alternative.”
She’s right.
“I need your address Chris.”
