You took my heart, could I please have it back?

[51] You took my heart, could I please have it back?

Dedicated to Emily, for forcing me to write...I got four pages done after she ordered me to ;) <3

Chapter 51

I could hardly breathe. I couldn't think straight. All I could think was 'oh fuck'. 'Oh my god'. I began gasping for air, as though it was me who had been stabbed, not him. Finally I took a massive gasp for air and I felt tears come to my eyes as I rushed to the hall.

Seizing the telephone, I punched in the numbers - 999 - and ran back into the kitchen, dropping onto my knees beside him, tears starting to run down my cheeks. I felt numb, yet terrified. He couldn't die. Not now.

I was put through to the operator and quickly gasped out the situation, then I was connected to the ambulance. I told them what happened and where I lived, then followed their instructions as they kept on the line to me as they drove.

They seemed to take an age. They were trying to be calm and soothing over the phone but my heart wouldn't slow down; if anything it only sped up as I felt for his pulse and found a very slow one. Tears were running down my face as I desperately called for him to wake up.

Finally though, the wailing sirens could be heard and soon they were down our street. They opened the door without knocking (thankfully; I don't think my legs would have supported me at this stage) and I called out weakly to them as I crushed my dad's hand, pleading him not to leave me.

Everything was like a blur; confusing, distant. I was only aware of my dad's cold hand in mine and the paramedics rushing around, trying to get him on a stretcher. When they lifted him I found I couldn't stand because my legs were shaking violently.

One of the paramedics gently helped me up and into the back of the ambulance. We started to drive almost instantly and the sirens were deafening, but my eyes were only on my dad as I sat crying my eyes out, ordering him not to leave me even though he couldn't hear me.

The paramedics weren't really paying attention to me but I didn't care. I only cared that all their attention was on dad, who was dying right before my eyes. My hands were covered in his blood where I'd tried to stop the bleeding like the paramedics asked. I was shaking furiously, not bothering to wipe my eyes anymore.

The ride was surprisingly short and soon they were wheeling him out, shouting indecipherable stuff that I didn't understand. I followed them out in a daze, barely able to walk, let alone run.

I sat in the waiting room of A&E, trembling, my eyes staring desperately at the doors into which my father had disappeared. I disregarded the blood on my hands, my brain and body numb. The sole thought going through my head was 'he better not die'.

I wasn't entirely sure how long I was sat there for. I kept wringing my hands, staring at the door hopefully. The tears had pretty much dried out but guilt haunted me; guilt that I had been selfish and immature and not seen that dad actually was right and I needed to spend more time with my friends, and now he was in hospital and if he lost his life...I shuddered to think about it, but if he did, he would have left on bad conditions with his daughter...

Running a hand through my hair, I ignored the streak of red I left in it and sniffed, crossing my legs on the soft chair. I needed a hug; badly. From Alex, dad, Lily, James, anyone. Right now was just an ideal time for a simple, comforting hug.

I felt hollow, numb. If my dad died, my life would go into turmoil. I might have to move away, and there was no way I could do that. I couldn't, not now that I had just managed to fit in with the old people. I couldn't meet new ones. I couldn't be torn away from the people I had grown so attached to.

Before I knew it I was hyperventilating and trying to hold back tears as well as breathe normally. Both were proving difficult right now and I was hoping, pleading that he would be okay. But the doors weren't opening, and it had been ages now.