The horrifying noise awoke me and left me scared and confused. I quickly jumped out of bed without my slippers or my robe, in just my pajamas. As I walked out the door of my room and down the stairs, I heard the screaming, yelling and the sound of something crashing down and shattering. I heard my mother whimper, and him exhale and turn to walk away. I slowly and silently crept down the stairs, assuring myself that he was gone, hopefully back to bed. I rounded the corner only to find my mother lying on the floor, grasping for air and a large shard of glass puncturing her head. I quickly thought to myself what I had learned in that Emergency Education class I took last summer, and remembered what I learned. I was taught to not freak out, and to respond rationally and to call 911. I reached for the phone and dialed the three-digit number. Immediately, the operator answered, “Emergency dispatch, what seems to be the problem?” I quickly responded, “It’s my mom. Her friend pushed her and she has glass in her head and blood all around her, please, PLEASE! HELP!” When I was done explaining and trying to assure myself that everything would be alright, the operator told me to stay on the line and EMS would arrive immediately. I rested the phone on my shoulder and looked over at my mother. She looked frightened, horrified, innocent. As I was sobbing, I tried desperately to reach for the words I wanted to say. In nothing but a muffled sound that only my mother would be able to understand, I whispered “I love you,” to my mother. A few moments later, they hauled both of us into a large ambulance and took us to the ER at Sacred Heart Hospital, not far from where we lived.

Three nurses took my mother into an empty room into the ER, and as I tried to follow, two other nurses grabbed me by the arms and insisted that I stay with them. As I fought back as hard as I could, I heard a harsh, shrilling noise, unknown to my ignorant ears. As I searched around for the source, I realized it was my scream. I fought away with all my might from the two nurses and finally broke free. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, and was almost caught up to my mother’s stretcher moving down the hall just as they pushed it through two large, metallic grey doors, only to be retrained by two large men in teal scrubs. As I soon realized I couldn’t break free, I still tried to fight to catch up to my mother. I fought and fought to be released, just as I saw the doctor to shove a plastic syringe deep into my arm. As I drifted further and further into unconsciousness, I stopped fighting, and prayed for my mother to be there by my side the second I awoke.