Bryson Andrews was gone.
I watched it happen. Even though he had already been unconscious, hearing the paramedic verbally confirm that his heart had stopped somehow altered my perspective. The situation instantly contorted from hopeful to tragic. The boy laying on the gurney didn't look like the boy I knew anymore. Even without a view of his face, I could sense that he was vacant. Empty. I could practically see the heat leave his body, the blue tones of his icy skin becoming more prominent as his life seeped away.
Someone had ushered me into the ambulance, the doors shutting me inside with three paramedics as they worked endlessly on bringing him back to life. It was hard to follow everything. My mind was numb, watching as if I was floating inside a foggy dream. Sirens wailed around me, deafening, but not capable of penetrating the cloud of mute disbelief screaming inside of me.
I couldn't breathe. Minutes passed and the team continued to press on his chest and breathe life into his still lungs, but all I could do was sit motionless, pressed into the furthest corner of the vehicle. Those lips that were once so warm and captivating now looked cold and harsh. If I reached over and slid my finger across them, they'd feel like stone. Would they crack? Was he as fragile as he appeared?
There were no tears. I couldn't even blink. My eyes continued to stay riveted to his lifeless form as the paramedics continued compressions and the ambulance wove agonizingly slow through debris-covered streets. I listened to them spout something about "epinephrine" and then they were filling a syringe with fluid and sliding it beneath his skin. All eyes were on the monitor, though I hadn't the faintest idea what they could be looking for. One paramedic continued CPR as the rest waited—watching.
It felt like hours were crawling by as I watched the scene play out. Part of me wondered what they were waiting for. The other part of me wondered when they'd finally give up, or if maybe they already had. Maybe I should have been yelling for them to "do something!" but I couldn't even muster up the energy to pull myself away from the grief that was dragging me under. Every muscle in my body was tense, clinging to the idea that a miracle would descend upon him and kick his dead heart back to life.
And then it did.
"I've got coarse V-fib," the petite blonde paramedic announced. I had no clue what that meant, but the tone of her voice had given me confidence.
Cutting Bryson's shirt from his body, I had watched the blonde stick a pad to his chest and another to his ribs before signally the male paramedic to stop CPR. Everyone stood back as the defibrillator sent a shock to the sleeping heart. With a nod of her head to the man beside her, he resumed CPR. The cycle continued. Every couple of minutes, they'd send another shock before starting compressions again.
Twelve minutes and forty-two seconds. That's how long Bryson's heart stood still in his chest. That's how long I sat, barely able to suck a breath into my lips as muddied prayers swirled around in my head. I wasn't even aware that I was pleading with God until I heard those sweet words from the blonde and a "Thank God" left my lips.
"He's back."
That had been four hours ago and Bryson was still unconscious. Alive, but comatose. The moment we'd arrived at the hospital, they'd wheeled him away from me, my eyes following the gurney as my feet fumbled beneath me. I was quickly offered a wheelchair and escorted to a curtained room where I was bombarded with more questions and more treatment until sleep finally overtook me.
I'd woken up in a grey room—one with walls instead of curtains—and my parents resting on a plastic loveseat positioned against the wall. A doctor had entered to inform me that I had a severely sprained knee—so I'd need a knee brace for a few weeks, but no surgery (Thank you, Lord)—several abrasions, a concussion, and very mild hypothermia. Aside from that, I was fine. Ready to return to my normal life.

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Kiss Off
Novela JuvenilHe's not supposed to be here. But, suddenly, he's standing right in front of me, looking so casual and charming. It's just the two of us, everything else has faded into the background as he gazes down at me. The worst part?... He's smiling like I...