The Sun Doesn't Rise for Me

After I'm forced to climb to an altitude of 15 thousand feet, my parents, Brian Parson and Mona Holcomb, abandon me halfway up the mountain while I suffer from altitude sickness. "Sunrise is only an hour away. Your sister has been looking forward to seeing the sunrise illuminate the mountains for two months. We can't let you ruin it for her." The moment the car door shuts, Mom's voice cuts off. By the time I reach the hospital at the foot of the mountain, an hour has already passed. The doctor says I'm barely conscious and could deteriorate at any moment, but they need a family member to sign the consent form before they can administer oxygen therapy. My vision goes black, and it takes me several tries before I finally manage to dial my parents' numbers. Five minutes pass. As the phone continues to ring without an answer, I gradually struggle to breathe. Perhaps Mom and Dad can't answer while driving, so I try calling my older brother, Jared Parson, who has left before them. "Jared, I'm at the hospital. I have altitude sickness—" Before I can finish, he cuts me off impatiently. "You're already at the hospital, so why are you telling me this? I'm busy taking photos of Ida. If there's nothing else, I'm hanging up now." Just before the call ends, I hear Mom shouting in the background. "Change to the side angle. Ida says the background needs to look a little more interesting." My ears goes numb from the incessant beeping. As the call screen disappears, a new message pops up in the "Forever Family" group chat. It's a group photo of my parents, Jared, and Ida standing with the mountains glowing golden in the sunlight behind them. The message before that is my own message about being unable to reach them while suffering from altitude sickness. An hour passes, and not a single person responds.