The loud blare of ambulance sirens cut through the peaceful suburban neighborhood within ten minutes.
Two paramedics rushed through the front door carrying heavy medical bags and an orange stretcher apparatus.
Arthur pointed frantically toward the living room where Mark remained kneeling beside his motionless wife.
Arthur: Over here! She hit her head on the oak floor!
Paramedic: Sir, please step back and give us room to work.
Mark: Is she breathing? Please tell me she is okay!
Paramedic: Step away right now, sir! Let us check her vitals!
Eleanor grabbed Mark by his elbow, pulling him away from the dark splash on the floor.
The lead paramedic placed a neck brace over Sarah while checking her pupils with a small flash light.
Paramedic: Her pulse is weak, but she is breathing on her own.
Mark: Thank God! Thank God she is alive!
Arthur: You are not out of trouble yet, Mark. Look at her!
The medical team carefully lifted Sarah onto the stretcher, securing her straps tightly before moving quickly.
Paramedic: We are taking her to the memorial hospital trauma unit immediately.
Eleanor: I am coming with you in the ambulance right now!
Paramedic: Only one family member can ride in the front, ma'am.
Arthur: Go with her, Eleanor. I will drive Mark behind you.
Mark watched in silence as the paramedics wheeled Sarah out into the bright afternoon sunlight.
The living room felt cold and empty, with the dark stain remaining on the hardwood oak floor.
Arthur: You better hope she wakes up without brain damage, Mark.
Mark: I never wanted to hurt her, Dad. I swear it!
Arthur: Your temper has finally cost you everything you loved.
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