Trust your gut

She startles awake, bolting upright in her own bed. A lump in the pit of her stomach forms and the unpleasant feeling that something bad has happened settles in her heart. She reaches for the phone on the nightstand, her fingers  rushing to find her sons contact information.

“He-hello?” His voice answers groggily and sleep ladened.

“Go check on your daughter”

There is no time for hellos or explanations, only actions. She needs to get him to go check on his daughter right now! So when he starts to ask questions about why she’s calling in the middle of the night to check on his daughter she snaps.

“Just do it!” She hisses.

“It’s the middle of the night, mom. We’re all sleeping peacefully in our beds” He sighs tiredly. 

The phone crackles a little as he moves.

She knows she’s being hysterical and unreasonable, but something inside her is screaming at her. In her gut, she feels something is wrong, and her gut is never wrong.

“I know, Dan, just please check on her. I won’t be able to fall asleep until I know she’s okay” She tries to say it softly, but the urgency inside her still surfaces in her words.

He lets out a big yawn before she hears more rustling of sheets. “Fine” He groans in irritation. “I’ll check on her, then I’ll call you back up, okay”

“NO!” She screams, making her husband turn in their bed. He reaches over and flicks the small bedside lamp on, bathing the room in light. He opens his mouth to speak, but she places a hand over his mouth before he can get a full sentence out.

“Keep me one the line. I need to hear that everything is okay”

Her son mumbles something about crazy mothers that she pretends not to hear. “Fine. I’ll keep you on the line”

She holds her breath and listens as his bare feet pad against their hardwood floor. Then she hears a door being opened carefully. It’s complete silence on both ends as he enters the room, his feet walking quietly on the carpeted floor in his daughters room. Then theres a shuffling sound, almost like he’s fixing the comforter and she pictures that he’s tucking his daughter in.

There is a loud thump, then some crackling before she hears her sons scream.

“No!”

“Please, please. Emily!”

Her heart stops in her chest, never in her life has she heard her son so panicked. She grips her husbands shoulder so hard she’s afraid her fingers will snap.

“Call 911, mom! Emily isn’t breathing”

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