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"Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought." — Percy Bysshe Shelley.
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Chapter 35
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My legs wobbled until I dropped to his body. "Dad?!"

My shaky hands fumbled across his chest until they finally reached his neck. I searched for a pulse. There was a pulse but it was weak. But, this did nothing to calm my frantic actions to wake him.

Okay, my frantic mind yelled. I need to get my brother. "Ryland!" I shouted, without a response.

Damn it! The moment that he needed to be home, he wasn't.

I shook him, to no avail. I thought that maybe he would just wake up. I thought that this would be a silly prank, the ones he used to do when he visited me as a child, but when he didn't move, not even an inch...I knew that this was my reality.

My head pounded as I thought of what to do. I needed to call someone, I needed to call the ambulance. Yes, I needed to do that.

Finally, my sweaty hands managed to pull out my phone. My fingers fumbled to dial emergency services, though when I saw the dial pad, I knew that I'd have to fix myself enough to get help.

"911, what's your emergency?" the woman on the other line asked.

I shook heavily as I continued to eye my unconscious father. He looked as if he were in a very peaceful slumber, completely oblivious to the outside world.

Fuck.

"Hello?" the operator tried to seek my attention.

Finally, I gathered the courage to speak. "My dad—" I swept at my burning eyes. "Yes, my dad he's unconscious. I found him, and he won't wake up."

I heard talking through the other line before the operator spoke directly to me. "Alright, how long has he been in this state. Ma'am?"

"I-I don't know," I whispered into the phone as I feared the worst. "I just got home."

What if I was too late?

"Ma'am, I need you to check his pulse," she said. "Can you do that for me?"

I did again, but it was the same as before. I shut my eyes tightly, breathing in shakily. "It's there but faint." I was shaking.

"Alright, can you check if he's breathing, sweetheart?"

I did. "He's breathing."

I heard the voices increase in the background before she asked, "Okay, and what is yours' and your father's name?"

"K-Kimberly Wrighton, and Jackson Wrighton."

"Alright, Kimberly, I need you to give me your address, sweetheart," she said, her voice soft but urgent.

My eyes averted to my father. I couldn't answer. My mind was elsewhere, and far away from reality. The last thing I told him was that I hated him.

"Miss, you need to calm down. We have to help each other, and we can't help you if you can't answer my questions, sweetheart."

I nodded even though she couldn't see me. "Okay." I needed to calm down in order to help my father, and tears wouldn't help.

"Now, just give me your address and have your door open and have any blockage out of the way, so that we can get him into the vehicle as quickly as possible," the woman on the other line was calm, her voice as soft as possible.

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