1 Davidsons

"SOMEBODY HELP, PLEASE" The doors flung open, and a stretcher was rolled in. A woman stood there, holding a tiny hand firmly, squeezing it tightly unconsciously. Tears streamed down her face, shouted those words at everybody, looking hysterically everywhere. Heads turned, people rushed; it was the most painful sight the hospital had seen. Words were exchanged; the concern was evident on their faces, something rare the doctors had seen. The small girl laid on the stretcher aching; the doctors talked fiercely as the nurses rushed towards the cath lab. They rolled the stretcher inside.

"Please do something." She begged her knees gave out and fell; her head hung low. The room had gone silent, just hushed whispers among the walls as if the hallways knew the faith, the echoing cries of the beloveds to be filled after.

The nurse held her up, and she took a seat across the room where her daughter laid. Her cheeks, still wet eyes glistened with tears on the edge of breaking out. Her hands placed in the form of prayer being said.

Nurses clutching files bustled about people came in a few doctors roamed freely; it wasn't the busiest hospital at the moment. Most seats remained untouched; the dust settled on the shelves above the reception- the ones not within reach.

The white walls were caving in on her; the minutes that passed by felt like ages. Her foot tapping the floor endlessly, eyes lingering towards the door, her heart ached with every skipping beat. She lost her focus when the tears blurred her vision and worries, disrupting her thoughts. She sat there alone, inbreathing the misery as the people walked by without turning to pity a lone woman.

Time ticked by it was 2 pm, and the doors remained closed; the operation had been going for half an hour, and no nurse had made an appearance. Rubbing her palms on her jeans covered thighs, she exhaled a breath and took her phone out. A frown replaced the tears; her lips curled in disdain, the name she had been loathing for years still lingered there; she dreaded hitting the dial button. Her head kept pushing her to dial the number as a mother, yet as a wife, her heart kept pulling back. She didn't want him involved. Lost in her fury, she didn't notice the doors opening. A nurse walked out. Her eyes flickered towards her.

"How's my daughter?" She leapt towards the nurse, holding onto her arm the dread of calling her husband somewhere lost.

"We are trying our best" The nurse nodded at her, released her arm and walked away. Her vague answer didn't help with the building pain in her heart. With a sigh and sinking feeling, she slumped down onto the seat and tilted her head back. Calming her nerves down, she closed her eyes, the unhinged mind drifting back to the grievous morning.

"Mom?"

"Yes, Anna." She said, stacking the dishes in the racks. Anna sat on the stool, textbooks spread out across the counter in the kitchen. With a pencil in one hand, she scribbled numbers onto her math workbook with a deepening frown forming on her face.

"Can you help me with this problem?" Anna asked, dropping her pencil and setting her chin on the table. Her mother dried her hands on the apron that hung loosely around her neck. Then, she turned her attention to her daughter.

"Show me." Spinning the book in her direction, her eyebrows creased. Her eyes scanned the word problem, something she had hated herself as a child. Anna sat there watching her puzzled mom; suppressed her giggle as her frown deepened.

"57 watermelons, 23 oranges..." She murmured while doing math on her fingers. Too many numbers placed in a single question always confused her; her mind wouldn't process them altogether. David had always been the one to teach Anna. With him gone, her life had landed in the middle of the ocean with a storm rising below.

"Mom?" Anna called, her face turned grim, her hands holding the left side of her chest tightly. Knots tied in the pit of her stomach, her body burned with every ache. Her eyes shot up at the grieving voice of her daughter.

"Anna! What's wrong?" Her mom screamed and rushed to her side. Holding her hair back, she wiped her tears as Anna pointed towards her chest and sobbed more.

"It hurts here, sweetie?" She asked, uneasiness settling in her stomach. Anna nodded, her lips curling in pain as she pressed her tiny hands onto her chest, the other hand holding her lower abdomen. She tried, rubbing her chest to ease the ache, but Anna cried more, leaning into her mother.

"I will go call the ambulance, okay?" She said and stood to rush to get the phone but, those tiny hands held her arm tightly.

"Nooo," Anna cried, holding onto her.

Her eyes snapped open. The lights glared, lighting the hallways making it appear immaculate as if those floors had never been walked by someone now buried; those walls never felt stained as those hands tried saving lives. Those hallways had heard more prayers than a temple seen egoistic people leave their pride at the front door. Here miracles were believable, yet some deaths weren't escapable.

She rubbed her eyes as she sat straight; her back ached from slouching. The tears had dried; her heart still thumped loudly. Glancing towards the door, she sent a silent prayer in the sky. If miracles were believable, she had oathed to fight for one her daughter needed.

Her phone rang, catching her off guard. She shifted in her seat and took her phone out. Seeing the caller ID, she sighed; slid her finger across the ignore button. The dates were pilling up, and time wasn't kind enough to grant favours at that moment. She slid her phone back into her pocket and started pacing the halls. Breathing in breathing out the air of melancholy encircled her; sufferings were always a breath away.

Pacing the halls, she didn't realize that the doors had opened. A sudden cold breeze enveloped the halls; the air shifted, the whistling of the autumn wind trapped inside the place, the walls remained silent. She had her back to the reality that stood outside the doors. A hustle of wind, and she wrapped her arms around and turned back. Then, as if the air had shifted again, cold settled in, wind miraculously silenced. Her eyes widened heart quickened. The doctor had his eyes on her; grieve, the most tragic hello.

"Isobel." He called out.