It was Thanksgiving in Nashville. Chris and I were hanging out with everyone after dinner, and we noticed that Ted had not been seen in a significant amount of time, so we decided to go hunting for him. We discovered Ted sprawled out on a bed, turning white and somewhat cold. There were a few other people in the room, all fucked up. Chris and I approached the bed and discovered that Ted wasn't breathing and there was no pulse. I shouted to Chris to run out and get Scott while I started CPR. Within seconds an ambulance was called, and Chris started chest compressions as I continued breathing. It was clear to us that this was some sort of drug overdose, but we were unsure of what type, and the other people in the room where too loaded to be of any help.
The ambulance arrived, and Ted was escorted to the nearest hospital. Only Chris and I followed in Ted's car. In the emergency room, the doctors informed us that Ted may not make it, so I called information and got the number to his parents' house where they were having their own turkey day celebration. Ted's mom answered the phone. When I told her what was happening, she instantly started screaming at me, "This is all your fault! If it weren't for you, Ted would be home with us! He'd be safe!" I started crying, and Chris snatched the phone and started defending me. He said, "Nikki is the reason your son is still alive. If it weren't for her, he'd be lying dead right now." She seemed to calm down, and the family hopped into the car for the trip to Nashville.
As we waited, Chris and I kept all of the noders at the house informed of Ted's progress. It didn't improve. After about an hour, Ted was declared dead.