Personal Narrative: Losing Somebody
Losing Somebody
It was less than three weeks after my thirteenth birthday. I was used to my father being drunk – and passed out. My mom's friend Terry was staying with us, and my mom had gone to the mental hospital. It was a hot afternoon, and my dad had been outside all day. I went outside to check on him, in a worried panic. The hot concrete of my small backyard patio burned through my bare feet like a thousand needles as I ran. I called Terry to the backyard; she checked his pulse and shook her head. What? I yelled at Terry to call 911, now.
Ambulances and several police cars arrived. We both explained what was going on, and the police told me to stay inside - I stayed in my room, my heart racing.
Some thirty minutes later a police officer
It was less than three weeks after my thirteenth birthday. I was used to my father being drunk – and passed out. My mom's friend Terry was staying with us, and my mom had gone to the mental hospital. It was a hot afternoon, and my dad had been outside all day. I went outside to check on him, in a worried panic. The hot concrete of my small backyard patio burned through my bare feet like a thousand needles as I ran. I called Terry to the backyard; she checked his pulse and shook her head. What? I yelled at Terry to call 911, now.
Ambulances and several police cars arrived. We both explained what was going on, and the police told me to stay inside - I stayed in my room, my heart racing.
Some thirty minutes later a police officer