The words hit me like a punch.
The Room Upstairs
I ran for the stairs without another word. My heart pounded so loudly the noise of the party faded behind me.
Emma lay on the guest bed upstairs.
At first she looked peaceful, curled beneath a blanket.
Then I noticed her lips.
They were pale… slightly blue.
Her chest wasn’t moving.
For several seconds my brain refused to accept what I was seeing.
Then instinct took over.
I dropped beside the bed and started CPR the way I had learned in a parenting class years earlier—counting compressions while begging my daughter to breathe.
When They Tried to Stop Me
My mother rushed into the room moments later.
Instead of helping, she grabbed my arm.
“Stop that,” she snapped. “You’re making a scene.”
My father stepped into the doorway, annoyed.
“She’s just asleep,” he said dismissively.
Natalie stood behind him holding a wine bottle, her face cold.
“You’re embarrassing everyone,” she said quietly.
Before I could react, the bottle swung.
Glass crashed against the side of my head.
White light burst across my vision.
Then everything went black.