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Two hours later,I’m lost in thought when I hear the door slam downstairs. I don’t bother calling out because if anyone needs me, they know they can always find me here or downstairs in the basement.
After closing everything up on the computer, I glance down at the clock and realize it’s already well past midnight. I don’t know how the time slips away from me like it does. It’s been happening more frequently lately.
The house is dark when I leave my office, except for a light coming from the bottom of Kinsley’s door. It’s odd that she came home and didn’t stop in to say hi. Of all my siblings, I’m the closest to my baby sister. We’ve spent a lot of time together while our brothers are out partying.
It completely slipped my mind that I dropped my car off at the shop this morning. She probably didn’t even realize I was home.
To say I’m sad that she’s about to start college is an understatement. I feel like––in some way––I’m the one that’s raised her.
I walk over to her bedroom to tell her goodnight, knocking on the door lightly. “Hey, Kins. You in there?”
I can hear the T.V. on the other side of the door, so I know she’s not sleeping.
“Kins?” I knock a little harder this time.
Nothing.
I twist the doorknob, but it’s locked. That’s definitely not like Kinsley. She’s never had anything to hide from us, so she’s never had any reason to lock her bedroom door.
“Kinsley! I’m coming in,” I yell, knocking for a third time, but am met again with silence.
I take a few steps back before running into the door with my shoulder, and it only takes a couple of hits before it crashes open.
My baby sister is sprawled across her bed, her hair fanning out all around the mattress, and one of her arms hanging off the side.
“Kinsley!” I rush over to the bed, trying to shake her awake.
Grabbing the phone, I dial nine-one-one. That’s when I notice an empty bottle of prescription pills on the floor. It looks like it almost rolled underneath the bed when it dropped from her hand.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
“It’s my sister. I just found her unresponsive in her bedroom. There’s an empty bottle of pills on the floor, it looks like Oxycontin,” I say, trying to remain calm, but it feels like there’s a rock in my chest.
Where did she get Oxycontin from? Why would she do this?
Her injury. She had an accident in cheerleading a couple years ago. I was furious when the doctor prescribed her these pills. I told her to dump them.
“Sir, is she breathing?” the operator asks me.
“What?” My mind is all over the place right now.
“I asked if she was breathing. Can you place your fingers on her and check for a pulse? I’ve got an ambulance on the way.”
“Yes, sorry. Hold on.” I sit the phone on the nightstand, putting my index and middle finger on her wrist.
“Yes, she’s breathing. I can feel a pulse, but it’s not very fast. Is that normal?” I know I’m panicking, but I can’t help it.
“A pulse is good, sir. The ambulance will be there soon. It looks like they’re about a minute away,” she reassures me.
I hear someone open the door downstairs.
“We’re up here!” I yell, hoping like hell they hear me, because I don’t think I can leave her side right now.
I wrap my arms around her limp body. “Oh, God, Kins. Please be okay.”
“Sir, we need you to move to the side please,” one of the paramedics says, putting her hand on my shoulder.
