Set Me Free

Chapter 1

Growing old is scary, as age passes, time passes, and we realize that our skin wrinkles. This reminds us of something. Our white hairs leave us with a message.
As seasons change, as we pass through every human emotion on the spectrum, it all eventually fades.
"What did I do when I was young?"
I ask myself as I look at my neck wrinkles in the mirror. Being 65 years old, my dull eyes look exhausted, drained from life. If I can go back in time what would I change? What would I undo?

"Jamie!!" I hear a voice yell.

"Go away!" I say as I put my fluffy blue pillow over my head.

"Jamie, mom is not breathing" a soft sob explodes into my eardrums.

I jump out of bed as fast as I can, run down the hall and make a left. Lying down on a queen size bed under a zebra print quilt is where my mom's lying down at unconscious. Around her eyes are pink, and her face is pale as snow. Her arm dangling from the edge of the bed, and a needle injected in her arm.

"Mom, can you hear me?!" I smack her face multiple times to see if she would respond. I felt her pulse it was slight.

"Rosanne, call 911!"

"Please God, don't take her like this, please help her, we need her, Lord!"

"911, what's your emergency?" A man's voice asks on the phone while Rosanne holds it up next to my ear. I grab the phone.

The tears ran down my face like a waterfall, "My mom overdosed, please help!" I say with a cracked voice.

"Okay, calm down, everything is going to be fine, Is she responding to your touch, can you feel her pulse?" He says as I close my eyes refusing to believe this is happening.

"I felt her pulse it was faint; she isn't responding though, please come." I say.

"What is your address ma'am?" The police officer asks.

"1438 Roosevelt Ln, San Francisco, 94102" I say.

"We are on our way, what is your name?" The police officer asks.
Does it really matter?! I wanted to shout.

"It's Jamie" I say brushing my hands through my mom's hair as she lies there cold.

"Is she going to survive?" My ten year old little sister stares at me with blood shot eyes from all the tears that are streaming down her face.

I COULDN'T CONVINCE HER BUT, I HAD TO HAVE FAITH! Sitting on the side of the bed with my legs crossed in a pretzel, I pull her close and sit her on my lap and hug her.

The sound of sirens appear in the front of the house. I run to open the door, two paramedics get out of the vehicle and take out a wheel stretcher from the back of the ambulance truck and walk towards and into the house.

"Where is she?" A woman paramedic asks me. She looks as though she's exhausted from probably being called most of the day from people who need her help.

"Upstairs, follow me" their clothes sound very heavy. Keys shackle, and heavy boots sounds occur as we go upstairs.

The male paramedic analyzes my mom first; he says her pulse is still there. He then carries her downstairs as if she's light like a pen, and then puts her on the stretcher, before they roll her away, I kiss her forehead.

They leave out of the front and put her in the vehicle and drive off.

I was just so relieved that they didn't ask me if there was another adult in the house because they would have put us in foster care. So now it's just me and my little sister Rosanne, and as her 17 year old big sister, I will do the best of my ability to take care of her.

"Rosanne!" I yelled. I just finished making mac and cheese and hot dogs for dinner. It was six in the afternoon, and the poor girl must be starving.

"Yes?" She asks with a sad tone. Under her eyes is puffy from tears, and I can only sympathize because it's hard for both of us.

"Please come, sit and eat; I made mac and cheese with hot dogs"

"Okay" she sniffs a few times, she sits on the metal chair in front of the glass table my mom bought for christmas. She wanted the house to look spectacular, so she was always extremely decorative.

"Look, mom is not here so from now on, I am in charge. We will try to keep it as normal as possible, so that we are not taken away. I will take you to school tomorrow." I say as I watch her fork her food with sorrow. Usually my mom never lets me drive, although I have my license, so it is time for me to put my practice into play.

"It's not easy, but I am here for you okay, Rosy?" I say trying to make her smile. It's difficult to pretend that I didn't just witness my mom get rolled away in a stretcher.