I wanted to say no.
I wanted to grab her and run.
I wanted to tell them she hated being strapped down, hated tight sleeves, hated anybody touching her hair when she was scared.
But her chest was still moving, and that mattered more than my instincts.
That is the terrible bargain emergencies make with you.
You can feel everything later.
Right now, you obey the people who know how to keep someone breathing.
The kitchen froze around them.
A paramedic’s glove squeaked against the stretcher rail.
The police radio cracked once, then went quiet.
My neighbor, Mrs. Hanley, stood just outside the open front door with one hand pressed over her mouth.
Even the refrigerator kept humming, indifferent and steady.
Nobody in that room looked at me for more than a second.
That scared me more than shouting would have.
The first officer asked when Daniel had last been conscious.
