In a desperate situation, the boy dialed a random number, and the woman on the other end believed

In a desperate situation, the boy dialed a random number, and the woman on the other end believed
Being in trouble, the boy dialed a random number. The woman thought she was being pranked, and her reaction shocked everyone.
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Dorothy was having a tough discussion with the bank manager when her phone rang, just at the wrong time. She automatically pulled out her cell phone and looked at the number with surprise. Normally, she didn't answer to strangers. But today, obeying some sixth sense, she took the call.
"Grandma, where are you?" the boy's voice rang with tension.
Dorothy said angrily, by inertia, that she still had a long way to be a grandmother. She thought that the call was a prank and hung up. However, after a minute, she still decided to find out who was pranking her and why, so she called back.
" There is not your grandmother here. You have the wrong number. Who gave you it?" asked Dorothy in a more friendly voice.
"Grandma's phone was stolen. My dad bought her a new one, and I didn't remember the number, but I thought I had dialed the right numbers," replied the boy.
"Why can't you call your dad or your mom?"
The boy sighed loudly, "His phone is off. Maybe he's in a meeting. And I don't have Mom. She left a long, long time ago. I can only call my dad and grandma."
The woman rubbed her forehead, "What's the emergency? Can you wait and call your dad later?"
The boy sobbed, "I've been waiting a long time. Even the bleeding has almost stopped. It just hurts a lot."
Th se words made Dorothy tense. As a surgeon, she had her own stop-words, forcing her to act immediately.
"What's happened?" the woman's voice became professionally dry.
The child was quiet and replied, "The window broke, I hurt myself."
Dorothy asked for the child's address, as it turned out, the boy lived near her place. Dropping the car off in her parking spot, she hurried to the address. Trying to keep her hands from shaking, she pressed the seventh-floor button in the elevator and rushed to the door. The door swung open almost as soon as she rang it. On the threshold stood a pale, frightened boy of about five. Brown eyes framed by dark lashes, a striped T-shirt, his arm wrapped in a large bath towel. Dorothy groaned, crouched down, and saw the red-colored stains. She unwrapped the towel and could hardly stop herself from screaming. From the wrist to the shoulder, the skin was deeply cut. She rushed to the table and wrote a short note to the boy's relatives. Grabbing the child's light jacket, she pus