Taylor Hanson
My eyes darted around the room helplessly for a moment, wondering what I was supposed to do. I knew that when I was just beginning to babysit my little brothers and sisters by myself, my mother would tell me what to do in case one of them cut themselves or if I accidentally cut myself, but none of it came to mind. I begin to panic as I searched my whirling mind for any piece of information that could possibly help me, but I couldn't think of anything other than the fact that there was a lot of blood.
And then the phone started to ring.
At first, I wasn't sure if the sound was just in my mind or if the phone was actually ringing. I listened for a minute, wondering why in the world the answering machine wasn't picking it up. Then, deciding not to care why it was the answering machine was coincidentally not turned on that morning, I took a deep breath and began to crawl toward where the sound of the phone seemed to be coming from.
I tried my hardest to ignore the indescribably searing pain that was ripping through my arm as I crawled along, trying not to move it in any unnecessary ways, but that proved impossible. I had never imagined such pain in my life, though I'm not so sure that at that moment all the pain was physical. I bit my lip and sank to the floor, beginning to cry, feeling helpless.
As hopelessness set in, assorted things started flying through my head in random order, bouncing off the sides of my skull and interrupting each other constantly. Memories, thoughts my family, thoughts of my friends, thoughts of the fans, pictures of the headlines on the magazines announcing my death, thoughts of what me dying in their home like this would do to Parker and Gina, all flying through my head at a dizzying speed. And boy, was I getting dizzy.
The phone's ringing echoed inside my ear, amplifying the dire need to at least get to the phone and answer it. Anybody could help. Anybody on the other end of that line might know what to do. And if nothing else, I could stop that incessant, deafening sound. It felt like the concert at Canada all over again.
I mustered up every bit of courage and strength I still held within me and began to crawl toward the phone again, my right arm the only thing pulling me along since even the movement of my legs seemed to hurt my other arm for some reason.
I had to stop again in the doorway of the kitchen. Everything was spinning around and I couldn't see any one thing at once. It was hard to judge where the phone was from my position. The scene before me began to grow gray.
"No," I think I might have said to myself.
Now more determined, I closed my eyes and crawled blindly toward the phone. It was safer than letting my eyes try to guide me. I winced in pain as my left foot hit the leg of the table. I almost cried out, but before I could, I realized that I was heading the right way. The phone--which was amazingly still ringing--was to the left of the table. I took a deep breath and started heading the that way.
I didn't know I had reached the phone until I bumped my head on the leg of the phone stand. I ignored it and, instead, attempted to reach up for the phone.
I swore to myself. I couldn't reach the phone from my position but couldn't get in any other position besides the one I was in. I grabbed the phone cord and yanked on it. The phone came crashing down and the ringing stopped.
Oh no, was the only coherent thought in my mind, I broke it.
I began to cry again and started saying an incoherent prayer that probably consisted of asking God to take care of my family and help them (and me) be brave about this. Then I heard a voice. It was very far away, very quiet.
"Hello?" she kept saying. "Hello?" She was getting worried.
I looked up, expecting to see an angel next to me, waiting to take me to whatever comes after life on earth, but saw nothing but a bunch of images spinning around in front of me. My eyes darted around what I could make out, trying to find the source of the voice. Oddly, the phone was the last place I looked. I realized that it was not, in fact, broken. It was just off the hook. I could only let the thank you to whatever God there was echo shortly through my mind. I didn't think I'd have time to say it.
I opened my mouth to begin speaking into the phone, but nothing came out but a loud moan of pain.
"Who is this?" she asked urgently, obviously beginning to panic. I wondered for a second why she hadn't hung up before. I would have.
Strangely, I recognized the voice from somewhere, but couldn't put a name or a face to it.
"Help," I managed to get out. Then I began to cough, liquids in my throat coming to my mouth. I let out one more moan and then rested my head on the floor, knowing that there was nothing I could do about the blackness that enveloped me.