9-1-1 ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ sʜᴏᴛs

House party - Bobby Nash

Holly Nash - 17

Holly Nash, Bobby Nash seventeen-year-old daughter, was usually responsible and studious. She was a good kid, someone Bobby trusted to stay out of trouble. But like many teenagers, Holly had her moments of rebellion. And one of those moments was about to turn Bobby's orderly world upside down.

---

It all started on a Friday night when Bobby was scheduled for a 24-hour shift at the firehouse. Holly had asked if she could have a few friends over, and Bobby, wanting to show his trust, had agreed. "Just a few, and keep it low-key," he had said, giving her a stern but loving look.

"Of course, Dad. Don't worry," Holly had assured him with a bright smile. She hugged him tightly, and he kissed her forehead before heading out.

As Bobby drove to the firehouse, he couldn't shake off a feeling of unease. He chalked it up to the usual worry that came with being a parent and pushed it to the back of his mind. Little did he know, his instincts were right.

---

Holly, initially excited about a quiet night with friends, had her plans spiral out of control when word of the gathering spread through social media. What was supposed to be a small, manageable group quickly ballooned into a full-blown house party.

Teenagers from her school—and even some she didn't recognize—started showing up. Before she knew it, her house was filled with loud music, laughter, and the smell of alcohol. She tried to maintain control, but it was like trying to stop a runaway train.

"Guys, keep it down," Holly pleaded, but her voice was drowned out by the thumping bass and the chatter of excited teens. She wandered through the crowd, trying to minimize the damage, but it was futile.

---

As the night wore on, Holly found herself swept up in the festivities. Someone handed her a drink, and then another. The stress of trying to manage the out-of-control party melted away with each sip. She lost track of time and her better judgment, succumbing to the peer pressure and the allure of fitting in.

It wasn't long before Holly was heavily intoxicated, her worries and responsibilities fading into a blur. She danced and laughed with her friends, momentarily forgetting about the impending consequences.

---

Meanwhile, at the firehouse, Bobby was dealing with a quiet night. The lull in activity allowed his thoughts to drift back to Holly. He decided to check in on her, sending her a quick text.

"Everything okay at home?" he typed, hitting send and waiting for a reply.

Holly, in the midst of the chaos, didn't see the message. Bobby's unease grew as he watched the minutes tick by without a response. He tried calling, but the loud music at home drowned out the sound of her phone.

---

The next morning, Bobby's shift ended earlier than expected. He decided to head home, hoping to surprise Holly with breakfast. As he pulled into the driveway, his heart sank at the sight before him.

The front yard was littered with trash and empty cans. The porch light was still on, casting an eerie glow over the mess. Bobby's heart pounded in his chest as he unlocked the front door and stepped inside.

The scene that greeted him was nothing short of a disaster. The living room was a war zone, with furniture overturned, stains on the carpet, and the unmistakable smell of alcohol hanging in the air. Bobby's eyes scanned the wreckage, landing on Holly, who was passed out on the couch in her dress from the night before.

"Holly," he called out, his voice a mix of anger and worry. He shook her gently, and she stirred, groaning as she opened her eyes.

"Dad?" Holly mumbled, her voice thick with sleep and the remnants of alcohol.