Emma's Point Of View
I stood outside the ER window, gripping the edge of the counter like it was the only thing keeping me upright. My vision blurred from the hot tears streaming down my face, but I could still hear the doctor’s voice, steady and commanding, cutting through the chaos: “270! Clear!”
The sound of the defibrillator charging pierced the air, and I flinched as the electrical pads made contact with Brandon’s chest. His body jerked violently, but the heart monitor stayed the same, the same painful flatlining, that dreadful, endless beep echoing in my ears.
“Again!” the doctor barked.
Another jolt, another fruitless attempt.
The panic rose in my chest like a tidal wave. My brother. My sweet, brave brother. He couldn’t leave me. Not like this.
“Time of death, 4:45 PM.”
Those
