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Several people rushed into the room at once. Someone came toward me while two paramedics moved past me to Dad, and suddenly there were hands on my arms, trying to help me stand.

“Please help him,” I cried. “Please, he’s cold. I don’t know how long he’s been like this.”

“We need to give them some room.”

The woman said something else, but I wasn’t listening. I was watching the paramedics, waiting for them to move faster, to do something that looked like saving him.

The paramedics weren’t moving the way I expected them to. There was no rush anymore. Nobody was shouting for equipment or telling someone to move. One of them spoke quietly to the other before looking toward the officer standing beside me, and something about the calmness in the room terrified me more.

“Why aren’t they helping him?”

The officer touched my arm. “Ma’am, we need to step outside.”

“No, why aren’t they doing anything? They have to get him down. Why aren’t they getting him down?”

“Ma’am.”

“Is he dead?”

She hesitated.

My stomach dropped.

“Is my dad dead?”

Her face softened. “I’m so sorry.”

My knees gave out so suddenly the officer had to catch me beneath the arms. I screamed for Dad as I fought against her, twisting around desperately to get back into the study.

“No! Dad! No, no, no, no!”

“Samantha, I need you to come with me.”

“Let me go! That’s my dad! Please let me go!”

I couldn’t breathe. Every time I tried to drag air into my lungs, another sob ripped through me before I could get enough. My entire body shook as I reached toward the study even though there was nothing I could do.

“Please help him! Please! You have to help him!”

The officer kept saying something to me, but I couldn’t understand her anymore.

All I could see was Dad.

“He can’t be dead! I just saw him! I just saw him!”

It had been a week, but suddenly that felt like yesterday. Dad sitting across from me at the restaurant. Dad angry. Me angry. Me standing up and leaving because I was so certain there would be another day.

“I need to talk to him. Please, I need to talk to him.”

“Ma’am, I’m so sorry.”

“No! Stop saying that!”

My voice broke into another scream.

“Stop fucking saying that! Just help him!”

I knew they couldn’t help him. It was too late. That realization hit me again, harder this time, and whatever strength remained in my legs disappeared. I collapsed against the officer, sobbing so violently that my chest hurt.