— Kirill Borisovich roared, grabbing the caregiver by the shoulder. — You’re a professional, you have a diploma!
— I… I mixed them up, the bottles look similar, — the woman stammered. — I’ve already called an ambulance, they’re on their way.
The master of the house grabbed his phone and started making a call.
— Where are you? The child is barely responsive, hurry! — He paced the room, repeatedly leaning over his daughter. — The ambulance is on its way. Hold on, Lizonka, hold on, Daddy’s here.
Someone pushed Shura from behind, and the girl decided to enter the room. Her gaze fell on the vial, then on the caregiver who could only tremble slightly, crawling away. ‘Poisoned,’ the thought flashed through her mind, and she immediately remembered how her strict grandmother had unceremoniously treated her when she had swallowed some berries in the forest.
— Water! — Shura shouted, her clear voice cutting through Kirill Borisovich’s panic. She turned to the housekeeper frozen in the doorway. — Bring water, warm, a lot of it, put salt in it, and a basin, quickly!
The housekeeper, with a gasp, disappeared and returned a minute later with a huge jug and a basin.
— Step aside, sir, — the ragamuffin unceremoniously pushed the stunned man aside with her shoulder.
The next ten minutes turned into a fight for life. The girl acted confidently, while everyone else just stared in stunned fear. She lifted Liza and, supporting her head, began to make her drink. The girl weakly resisted, whimpering, but Shura was adamant.
— Come on, sweetie, one more sip! — she cooed in a steady voice.
The world around her disappeared; there was only this pale little face and the convulsive swallows. When the jug was empty, Shura leaned the girl over the basin and, before anyone could do anything, decisively induced vomiting. The girl threw up once, then again. The caregiver turned away, covering her face with her hands. Kirill Borisovich sank onto a chair, afraid to move. The procedure had to be repeated until the stomach was clear.
Liza cried out one last time and went limp in Shura’s arms. The frightening pallor gradually began to recede. After a few minutes of tense waiting, her cheeks turned pink, and her breathing became deeper and more even. At that moment, the heavy footsteps and voices of paramedics were heard in the hall.
The master of the house jumped up from his chair. An elderly paramedic, entering the nursery, quickly assessed the situation: a listless girl in bed, open medicine vials, an empty jug in Shura’s hands, a basin, frightened people. He examined Liza, checked her pulse, and turned to her father.
— Who performed the stomach flush?
Comments are closed.