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    It was the last straw. You've had it. You run up to your room, and slam the door shut. With a sigh, you sit on the bed, running a hand over your tired face and through your ruffled hair. She never understood you, never saw what you wanted. For your birthday, if she ever remembered it, she would get you exactly the thing you didn't want. Whenever you tried to make a connection, she was always off in her own world, listening to the voices in her head. You knew there was something wrong with her after Dad died, but it wasn't until now that you realized you couldn't handle it. She needed help. With a deep breath, you realize what you need to do. You slowly open the door to your room and listen. Dimly, you can hear her raging in the kitchen. You creep down the hall until you get to the office. You open the door. It gives out the tiniest creak. Your heart catches in your throat. You tiptoe inside close the door behind you. You can feel your pulse beating uncontrollably in your wrists. You cross the room to the telephone. Trembling, you pick up the receiver and dial three numbers. You hear a click as the person on the other end picks up.
    "911, please state your emergency."

So what do you think?