Ardal
No, no, no. Not like this.
He is not dying like this.
I’m panting as my fingers firm on his shirt, wanting to violently shake him so he opens his eyes. Only, I know it won’t do me any good. I need to get air back in his lungs, make his heart beat again.
Gulping down breaths of panic, my hands move over him again, adjusting to a new position at his sternum. I’ve never performed CPR on someone before, but I’ve had enough training throughout the years - for the sake of my job and the babies.
100 to 120 compressions a minute, I state in my mind.
Brows furrowed and teeth pressed tight, I bring my weight down on Kadeem as I compress and then bounce back up. I repeat the action over and over, counting in my head as water drips from my clothes.
97, 98, 99
