This Is Not It (RE-MADE)

I climbed the grand staircase that welcomed me with open arms when I walked through the front door. The household was calm; usually the kids would be playing around with Michael. Prince, Paris, Blanket; our twins Yvonne and Tyvonne, and our youngest, Mikell made the loudest noises you could ever imagine. But it didn't bother us too much if we were being romantic at the time.
But the kids were nowhere to be found. They were probably somewhere around the house.
I heard a faint conversation just a room away while I tapped lightly on Michael's door.
"Michael?" I waited for a response, but none came.
He must still be asleep.
I pushed opened the door and walked in. A smile slithered across my lips as I watched him sleep peacefully. But my smile was soon replaced with a frown.
His chest wwasn't heaving and his usually soft snores were silent. He seemed a little too peaceful.
I walked over and shook him slightly. "Michael?"
No response.
A memory I tried so hard to forget came back to mind.
Late 2005, the year the twins were born, Michael overdosed on his prescription pills to get rid of the aching pains he suffered before he headed out to the zoo with the kids.
When he didn't return downstairs, Charley and I checked on him, and fortunately were able to save his life. He stayed in the hospital a few days, clearly upset that he missed the trip.
I quickly checked his pulse, and my heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. I immediately felt sick.
"No, no, not again," I muttered under my breath.
A syringe nearby caught my attention and I picked it up. It contained a white, milky substance inside. That's when I noticed the bottle sitting on the nightstand also. I picked it up and read the name: Propofol.
"The hell," I murmured.
That's when it hit me. I remember this stuff being used in hospitals, but rarely ever outside of it. Did Conrad even have permission to use it? Too much of it could cause a cardiac arrest... Michael was suffering a cardiac arrest!
I threw the stuff back on the nightstand and pulled him off the bed as carefully as I could. As I was performing CPR, Blanket entered the room.
Just as he was about to turn toward us, I quickly stood up and blocked Michael from Blanket's view.
"Momma?" he questioned. "Why are you here so early?"
I had planned to meet the kids and Michael around afternoon to hang around a bit.
But instead of answering his question, I firmly gripped his shoulders and replied, "I need you to go find the house phone and call an ambulance."
His eyes grew wide. "Is something wrong with daddy?" He tried to peer around to take a peek.
"Blanket, jsut go do as I say; but don't use your father's name!"
He quickly obeyed.
I checked Michael's pulse once again. This time, I felt a faint heartbeat. His chest was slowly heaving up and down.
"What are you doing?" I looked up to see Conrad.
Suddenly, I was boiling with anger. I had no idea where I inherited my fire from, but I had a strong urge to rip Conrad's head off.
"What the hell's wrong with you!?" I shouted at him.
He jumped back at my sudden outburst.
"Do you normally leave your patients unattended, or do you not give a damn about Michael?"
He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out.
I rolled my eyes at him as I gently placed Michael's head on my lap. 10 minutes had passed when the ambulance had finally showed up and performed their job. In less than 5 minutes, Michael was taken outside to the ambulance.
After they loaded up, they exited the property. To my shock, paparazzi began flooding the area. The large gates quickly closed before any cars swarmed the place.
"Blanket," I called out.
He showed up in less than a minute. When he saw the paparazzi, he quickly told me, "I didn't say his name."
"Then how do they know?"
He pointed up at the palm tree outside the gates. On top was a man with a video camera.
"Damn Paparazzi." I growled as I slammed the door shut.
"Will daddy be okay?" he asked, concern filling his puppy eyes.
I kissed the top of his forehead.
"He'll be fine." I reassured him.
But the state he was in said otherwise.