Laura
The commotion upstairs reached the party like a shockwave. Shouts echoed through the grand hall, panic spreading among the guests. “Andrew! Someone help Andrew!”
I didn’t hesitate. My heels clicked sharply against the marble floor as I ran toward the stairs, my pulse pounding in my ears. By the time I reached the room, a small crowd had gathered, their faces pale and stricken as they hovered around Andrew Thompson’s prone body.
He lay there, unconscious, choking on his own saliva. His face was flushed, his hands twitching involuntarily. For a moment, no one moved.
I dropped to my knees beside him, my medical instincts taking over. “Someone call 911!” I yelled, but the room remained frozen, the air thick with shock.
I checked his pulse at his neck. Weak. Irregular. Without hesita
