Status: I hope you will like my story. :)
Within Two Minutes
Quick action
*Ding dong* David’s ringing at the doorbell. Nothing. After a while *knock, knock*. Still nothing. “Shit, where is he?” David asked himself. He waited some more. He took the handle and grew nervous when figured out it was locked. He went round the house from behind. Luckily, the door of terrace was ajar. He came in. “Pierre?!” he called out and looked to the kitchen ... but no one was there. He was frightened. “Pierre, where are you?!” he called more loudly and his voice was shaking. He walked to my room. Again – no one was there. David went over the hallway to the bathroom and he terrified as he saw the scattered things on the floor. “Shit.” He went briskly to the last room. The look at me was killing him. Immediately he approached to me and knelt down. He patted me on my cheeks. He went crazy. Then he noticed the empty glass of pills and the goodbye letter. “Fuck! Shit! Pierre, wake up! Honey!” He went more and more crazy. His pats got stronger. He took his phone out of his pocket and called an ambulance. *On the phone* “Good afternoon, how can I help you?” The doctor’s voice asked. “Hey, here’s David Desrosiers, could you please come to Retreat Road 9? There is overdose man here.” David acted with dispatch and he was patting me more and more. “Sure, we’ll be right there, bye!”
He put my head to his lap. “Sweetie, why?!” His tear fell onto my forehead. He fondled my hair. “You are such an idiot! Baby!” He said before giving his forefinger and middle finger on my neck – he checked my pulse. My heart was beating but slowly. In that instant the rescue Service knocked on the front door. David jumped up and ran to open. “He is in the living room. Go down the hall and to the right!”
“When did you find him?” A paramedic asked. “About twenty minutes ago.” David answered and breathed heavily. “Did you check his pulse?” “Yeah, too slow.” In the meantime other paramedic lifted my feet for blood supply of my brain. After a while I opened my eyes and spitted white foam. “Are you here? Do you hear me?” The man in medical suit patted me and wiped my mouth and chin. “Listen to me. How many pills did you take?” The paramedic asked me. I ignored that question and I wasn’t able to answer. The doctor turned to David and began to speak. “By chance, do you know how many pills he swallowed, Mr. Des-or – De-orsi … just, you know it?” The paramedic asked him. “I-I don’t know … a lot of, probably. The glass was full before.” David replied and his voice was full of concern. “Well, we’ll take him to the hospital right now. He must be there some time until he recuperates. About two days at least.” The doctor explained. “Help him and I’m gonna contact his parents.” David said before leaving of the paramedics with me on a stretcher.
David walked back to the living room and picked the goodbye letter up before started reading. As he read ‘I can’t live anymore’ his tear falling down his cheek smeared a few letters. Immediately he took his phone, again, and called my dad.
As soon as my parents knew what happened, they rushed to the hospital. I’m sure it was bad for them to see me in the hospital bed all over. Fortunately, I didn’t sleep five months as before but when I woke up I felt really terrible. My head was spinning. I had no appetite to eat. I knew my parents and even David wanted to reproach to me my dealing but when they saw the dark circles under my eyes and that I only looked to the side without one single word, they decided to not do it. I was sure the moment of reproaches will come one day.
He put my head to his lap. “Sweetie, why?!” His tear fell onto my forehead. He fondled my hair. “You are such an idiot! Baby!” He said before giving his forefinger and middle finger on my neck – he checked my pulse. My heart was beating but slowly. In that instant the rescue Service knocked on the front door. David jumped up and ran to open. “He is in the living room. Go down the hall and to the right!”
“When did you find him?” A paramedic asked. “About twenty minutes ago.” David answered and breathed heavily. “Did you check his pulse?” “Yeah, too slow.” In the meantime other paramedic lifted my feet for blood supply of my brain. After a while I opened my eyes and spitted white foam. “Are you here? Do you hear me?” The man in medical suit patted me and wiped my mouth and chin. “Listen to me. How many pills did you take?” The paramedic asked me. I ignored that question and I wasn’t able to answer. The doctor turned to David and began to speak. “By chance, do you know how many pills he swallowed, Mr. Des-or – De-orsi … just, you know it?” The paramedic asked him. “I-I don’t know … a lot of, probably. The glass was full before.” David replied and his voice was full of concern. “Well, we’ll take him to the hospital right now. He must be there some time until he recuperates. About two days at least.” The doctor explained. “Help him and I’m gonna contact his parents.” David said before leaving of the paramedics with me on a stretcher.
David walked back to the living room and picked the goodbye letter up before started reading. As he read ‘I can’t live anymore’ his tear falling down his cheek smeared a few letters. Immediately he took his phone, again, and called my dad.
As soon as my parents knew what happened, they rushed to the hospital. I’m sure it was bad for them to see me in the hospital bed all over. Fortunately, I didn’t sleep five months as before but when I woke up I felt really terrible. My head was spinning. I had no appetite to eat. I knew my parents and even David wanted to reproach to me my dealing but when they saw the dark circles under my eyes and that I only looked to the side without one single word, they decided to not do it. I was sure the moment of reproaches will come one day.