Martha: Get up off that floor right now. Playing dead won't get you out of your afternoon responsibilities.
Emma remained motionless against the base cabinets, her chest barely rising as the heavy silence settled over the room.
Martha: I mean it, Emma. Open your eyes and stop this foolish game.
The wide kitchen was dead silent except for the dripping kitchen faucet and the hum of the old refrigerator.
Martha: If you think staying down there will make me do your work, you are sorely mistaken.
Martha crossed her arms tightly over her floral apron, tapping her sensible shoe against the linoleum floor in mounting anger.
Martha: You hear me? You're grounded from the weekend allowance for this stunt.
Still, the young girl did not stir, her limbs awkwardly twisted amidst the dangerous debris of broken glass.
Martha: Fine. Stay there until your grandfather comes inside. See if he coddles you.
Heavy footsteps echoed rapidly down the wooden hallway as the back door swung open with a violent bang.
David: Good lord, what was that massive crash I just heard from the back porch?!
Martha: It's just Emma throwing another one of her childish temper tantrums on the floor.
David rushed through a doorway into the room with a panicked expression after hearing the loud crash.
David: Emma? Emma, honey, open your eyes. Why isn't she moving, Martha?
Martha: She's faking it to avoid washing the dinner dishes. I just tapped her cheek to snap her out of it.
David dropped to his knees beside the unconscious girl, pressing two fingers against her icy wrist with a terrified gasp.
David: Her pulse is dangerously weak! She's completely unresponsive!
Martha: Don't be ridiculous. Kids these days know how to fake anything for attention.
David pulled his phone from his pocket with trembling fingers, punching the emergency digits with frantic speed.
David: Call 911!
Martha: You're overreacting over a stubborn teenager who refuses to pull her weight around the ranch.
David: Shut up, Martha! Look at her lips, they're turning blue!
The dispatcher's voice crackled loudly through the speaker as David pressed the phone desperately to his ear.
Dispatcher: 911 emergency, what is the exact nature of your emergency?
David: My granddaughter has collapsed and she's not breathing properly! Send an ambulance immediately!
Martha: Tell them we live twenty miles out and it will take forever for anyone to get here.
David glared up at his wife with pure fury, his hands shaking as he cradled Emma's limp head.
David: If anything happens to her, Martha, I will never forgive you for this.
Dispatcher: Stay calm, sir. Paramedics are already dispatched and heading down your county road.
David: Hurry, please! She has a severe history of heart arrhythmias!
Martha: You never mentioned any heart conditions to me before today!
David: Because you never cared enough to ask about her medical history!
Martha knelt over the unconscious girl on the floor, pointing aggressively at her face as if blaming her.
Martha: Emma, this is enough.
David: Stop pointing at her like she's committing a crime! She's dying on our kitchen floor!
The distant wail of a siren began to echo faintly through the open kitchen window, growing louder by the second.
Martha: Well, they're here now. Let's see how fast her little act falls apart under a doctor's care.
David: Get out of the way, Martha. Just step back before you do any more damage.
The front door burst open with a crash as emergency medical technicians rushed into the cluttered farmhouse kitchen.