𝙇𝙚𝙩 𝙈𝙚 𝙄𝙣.

Paralyzing.

Life had never been easy for the Rickert Family. From the moment Paul and Dennis were kicked out at 14, to the day West was born when they were 17, and they had to give up their hopes and dreams and everything else, to take care of him. Their lives had been on a downward spiral since then, with Paul struggling to take care of a child when he was still a child himself, to losing his Uncle, and his best friend, to battling with addiction and failing at being the parent he'd always wanted to be for his son. His strained relationship with his brother also proved to be the final nail in the coffin.

Paul had made some terrible choices in life, but that didn't mean he was a terrible person. He had been trying to make up for it. He was getting help for his addiction, and his relationship with his son was improving significantly. It was heartbreaking and cruel, how all that didn't matter, now.

But West believed in second chances, they were not given to make things right, but were given to prove that one could change and become better even after one falls. And Paul deserved a second chance. He deserved a chance to better his family relationships, a chance to improve his lifestyle, and a chance to live.

He scrambled towards the house phone hooked to the wall and dialed 911.

"911, what's your--"

"My dad... he's-- I found him laying face down on the floor, I don't know what happened! I don't think he's breathing! Please, I need an ambulance!"

"What's your address?"

"53 Savoy Street... Please get here quick!" His voice was getting shaky, and he was trying hard not to break down, but it was getting tougher with every second that passed.

"The paramedics are on their way. Is he cold to the touch?"

"What? I don't-- I'll check!"

West put the phone on speaker mode and hurried to his dad's side. He flipped him over and cupped his face. The stubble on his jaw felt prickly on West's palms, but underneath all that roughness was a subtle warmth.

"He feels...normal? I don't-- Please get here, Please!" He pleaded.

"Paramedics will be there within 3 minutes. Did you check for a pulse?"

"A pulse?"

"I need you to place two fingers on the thumb side of his wrist. Tell me if you feel anything."

West did as he was told, but when he touched his dad's wrist, he couldn't feel a single thing.

"There's... nothing... there's no pulse!" He felt himself running out of breath, like someone was tightening a cord around his neck. He was suffocating.

"Dad, please!" He cradled Paul's head close to his chest, letting his tears dampen the dark brown hair.
"Please, wake up! Dad, I love you, just, please!"

"Listen to me-- What's your name?"

"W-Weston."

"Listen to me, Weston," The lady said in a soft, calming voice, "Chances are, you found him just as he collapsed. You can still save him."

"I can't-- I can't, he's--"

"Weston, just breathe, okay? You can do this. Listen to my voice and follow my instructions."

He frantically wiped the tears from his cheeks and took a deep breath. "Okay... okay, what do I do?"

"Place your dad on his back and tilt his head slightly by lifting his chin."

"Okay!"

"You'll perform 30 chest compressions. Place your hands on top of the other and clasp them together on his chest. Now, with the heel of your hands, press down hard and fast on the center, around two inches deep, slightly below the nipples."

West performed CPR on Paul, but it seemed as if it wasn't helping. He started to panic again. "I'm trying!"

"I know. You're doing a great job. Compress his chest as many times as you can, but let his chest rise fully after every compression."
The operator lady was very kind and patient with West. He felt bad for screaming at her, now. She was just trying to do her job, and she was damn good at it.

"Oh, God."

"Now, I need you to perform 2 rescue breaths. Pinch his nose shut, and place your mouth over his and blow to make his chest rise."

"It's not doing anything!"

Please, wake up...

"Try again, Weston."

"He's gone..." West whispered, more to himself, than to the operator.

"You need to perform CPR up until the paramedics can get there with the defibrillator. Can you do that?"

"Y-yes, I think so"

He repeated the whole process for a few seconds before the paramedics burst through the front door with a stretcher and a portable defibrillator.

"In here!" West yelled.

The two paramedics ran into the kitchen and to Paul's side, "Did you perform CPR?" One asked.

"Y-yes."

"Good job, I'll take it from here." Paramedic two started performing CPR fastr, while the other prepped the machine.
"Clear!" Paramedic one yelled. The other immediately ceased CPR. West got up from the floor and stood in the doorway while the paramedics worked to save Paul's life.

The tears were now free falling from his eyes. He had never felt such pain. It was paralyzing, and all he could do was watch as they tried to revive his dad. He felt hopeless. He wanted to tell them to stop, that it was no use because he was gone.
He hated life, he hated how it gave him a glimpse of how good things could be, only to take it away when he least expected. He lost the strength in his legs and collapsed into a sobbing heap on the floor.

Black dots clouded his vision, he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness, he hoped it meant death for him as well. He didn't want to live anymore. How strange was it that just a month ago, he couldn't wait to get away from Paul, now he couldn't see himself living without him. West closed his eyes, and waited for the darkness to engulf him completely. The last thing he heard before passing out was the muffled beeping of the defibrillator, signaling that his dad was alive.
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