A Close Call: Rescuing My Daughter
Our daughter, Luna Woods, developed a high fever. Her body was burning hot. I immediately dialed 911 for help.
The dispatcher on the other end kept repeating his questions. He spoke slowly, as if deliberately stalling for time.
By the time I finally heard the ambulance siren, Luna was already turning cold in my arms.
In less than a year, my wife and I separated. We were consumed by endless grief and blamed for each other.
Afterward, I merely existed for the sake of it. I was a hollow shell of a man. Then, one day, I received a wedding invitation from my ex-wife.
The moment I played the audio invitation, a chill ran down my spine.
The groom’s voice was identical to that of the slow, dawdling dispatcher from that year!
I rushed out, utterly distraught, only to be hit by a roaring train.
When I opened my eyes again, I heard Luna crying in the next room. Her forehead was burning hot.
My wife hurriedly handed me the phone.
“Quick, call 911! I’ll get a wet towel.”
My hands trembled as I took the phone. When it was answered, I heard a familiar male voice through the receiver.
“911, what’s your emergency?”